Cats always find their level
The streets were naked but the air was sweetly syrupy with the noise of terrace parties and the smell of burnt onions, and so the footpaths laid vulnerable to monstrous city beetles that flittered and rattled like the sounds of those comical skeletons from old fashioned films, from gutters to garbage bins, in search of a meal, but the bins had been emptied and the gutters were clean, except for...
Anonymous asked: your such a beautiful person, inside and out :)
A letter a day keeps the mind going astray
Or something… This isn’t an original idea, but I think it’s a good one. Everybody loves writing and receiving letters, but these days, it doesn’t happen as often, thanks to text messages and social media. Use this as an excuse to get all sentimental and nostalgic, and maybe a bit childish; ‘cause you’re never too old to write letters. Start by re-blogging this...
It’s an urgent spark of restlessness, a yearning to learn and share and create...– Late night words from Tess Van Deyk (13/6/12)
mister-selfdestruct: There’s hand carved statues guarding the doorway. Standing silent, incense burning at the point of crossed shins. Patient, and still, you can never see them draw breath, no matter how long you wait. The threshold births me into a room of warmth and love and broken feelings. The idea that nothing is pure is made physical in the thickness of the air. Subtly stifling and...
A cage like a house
I stand a matchstick breathing warmth against the lids of this house’s eye, and it sighs a dull, oblong gaze onto the asphalt seashore song of vehicles, homeward bound, an eye within an eye, a duality finely paired, disgustingly obsolete, furtively incompetent, wholeheartedly empathetic, and more silent than a stone. Her walls are cold to the touch, as mine are, and I love her inanimate...
Anonymous asked: I just want you to know I think you are perfect and If I could be anyone in this world, I would be you.
The past was past; whatever it had been it was no more at hand. Whatever its...– Tess of the D’Urbervilles
So beat me, until the whites of my teeth are framed with red in a shark-faced smile and my eyes roll back brimming with crocodile tears and my hair knots in steel-wool clumps between the bones of your knuckles that stretch the skin so taut they could just be cold cling-wrapped stones and the veins in your arms, your hands, in you, they swell on the surface and throb with the rush of your...
We can all pretend we’re good people, but deep down inside of us all is an observer who sees and knows every immoral and selfish thing we do. That observer is the monster under our beds, it’s what fuels our nightmares and keeps us awake at night. [To see you carrying on with your life in such a nonchalant fashion and boasting your happiness is a bizarre spectacle to someone who knows...
Anonymous asked: What is your zodiac sign, beautiful? x
Cheeky preview of a new song we played around with...
Spear-fed consequence and a misfired war cry, the earth breaks up and explodes beneath muddy hooves and fallen swords, and the frost-licked air is separated by small mushroom clouds of breath expelled from the nostrils of white-eyed beasts, delicate limbs extended full length, muscled with wiry flesh that wraps bones like handmade shrouds draped over marble form, bone like stone and stone like...