#hymnstofall

[amicameastuff]

When it looked like you were in love And I couldn't miss you more And I didn't say a thing about it Didn't think to talk Oh I was sleepin' in like Snow White And I was sleeping on the floor And I stopped wondering

Mallrat, "Stay" (@lilmallrat)

[amicameastuff]

well I got noone's word and nobody's promise not a lot to show but this book full of sonnets

Passenger, "Things That Stop You Dreaming"

[amicameastuff]

My heart is numb The feeling that I get from The way you shake your voice And curse this bitter love And oh, it's cold Living in a fallen home We were just kids back then Too scared to be alone You leave me in the dark Recounting all my sins You put words in my mouth But who is gonna mend These white fences?

Needtobreathe, "White Fences"

[amicameastuff]

poopy

D:

[amicameastuff]

A fifteen-year-old boy [cured of lifelong blindness with cataract surgery], who was also in love with a girl at the asylum for the blind, finally blurted out, 'No, really, I can't stand it any more. I want to be sent back to the asylum again. If things aren't altered I'll tear my eyes out!'

Annie Dillard, "Seeing," Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

[amicameastuff]

For Ofélia, If She's Ready

if I could snatch songs to match the beats you love (and perhaps you don't but can't beat out your head) then into nets, jars and greenhouses the songs would go, beating the wind in blooming tropical trees, sipping honey water from leaves and grooves in the shady stones. you could live here, in this music garden I make for you. it's familiar but it's safe. but the songs are powdery moths. I can't find them against the trunks in this wood wound with poison ivy and winding rusting barbed wire. can't grab them when they fly, slippery with blood. they thrash the trees; that's the only way I see them, right before they crumple and fall into the ghostly leaves. oh please, if you stay in the wood, please stay on the trail. even when the beats beat you senseless, stagger along that path, and I'll always be there, with a net, a jar and my harmonica, but I'll only play what I can match to the beat in your head, so I will not play often.

[amicameastuff]

forest ghosts

[amicameastuff]

I can't see the sun for the daylight. I can't feel your breath for the wind. I get so used to these shadows. Will you chase away these shadows when you come back again?

"The Edge of Water" by Jars of Clay