an army of me

go here.

Sat, 03 Jan 2009 11:21:17 GMT

Coquette is resting.

Nansenland reigns.

no. 1

Wed, 03 Dec 2008 22:01:59 GMT

Rule no. 1: For fuck's sake, don't tell!

.3

Sun, 30 Nov 2008 07:30:30 GMT

"You're so casual with the power you hold over people."

Wowzers.

lapin.

Sat, 29 Nov 2008 00:34:09 GMT

...aaaand suddenly things are better.

***

Fri, 28 Nov 2008 00:20:43 GMT

I'm not sorry for occupying space in the world.
I'm not sorry for asking questions.
I'm not sorry for being curious.
I'm not sorry for liking what I like.
I'm not sorry for disagreeing.
I'm not sorry for existing.
I'm not sorry for my beliefs.
I'm not sorry for my opinions.
I'm not sorry for repeating myself.
I'm not sorry for my words.
I'm not sorry for my music.
I'm not sorry for my sense of humour.
I'm not sorry for saying no.
I'm not sorry for being 'bad'.
I'm not sorry for choosing my own.
I'm not sorry for running.
I'm not sorry for doing it my way.
I'm not sorry for being near you.
I'm not sorry for talking to you.
I'm not sorry for my habits and quirks.
I'm not sorry for reclaiming my body.
I'm not sorry for my life.
I'm not sorry.

I'm not going to fucking apologize.

snow.

Fri, 28 Nov 2008 00:09:59 GMT

Smoke it out of your body.

Set fires and traps and let it trip and fall through it's own blindness.

Don't feed it.
Don't give it room.
Don't let it flourish.

Destroy it.

Burn right through it until nothing is left to linger.
Not even ashes.

coo.

Thu, 27 Nov 2008 01:06:58 GMT

When did I start getting so flirty?

birch.

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 09:31:33 GMT

Today is one of those days where I needed to be reminded.

--

I'm not a fresh-faced beauty.
I'm not a bright-eyed doll with glowing naturalness.
I'm not a doe in a forest of tangled long legs and clutching hands, gliding gracefully through the branches.
My shape isn't made of willingness and tenderness.
My body is a bow and arrow - strung and set and intent.
And I am not the sweetness that curls gently around fingers; my sweet comes with bitter, like blood oranges, like blood on the tongue.
I don't pose with poise and elegance.
I slouch and expand and ribbon around my environment.
I don't whisper lemon grass words and sugared sentences.
My teeth are chipped and my words are both honeyed and stained.
My games are set out with rules and determination; I break my own to win my own.
I don't always play fair.
I'm not concentrated good or concentrated bad; I'm both pieces collided and existing within one solid skin.
My soles are hard and my soul is salted.
My legs aren't willow branches, lithe and beautiful - but they are strong and resilient.
I'm not porcelain, untouched and smooth.
All my scars and marks and bruises and veins map the places and stages where I've been.
My eyes aren't wide and fringed with glossy lashes like luxurious fur - but their shape hints of my heritage.
More darkened, more closed; a winter ocean, all the depths of blue and grey and narrow.
I am my own carrier.
And though sometimes I still crawl in the name of someone else, my pilgrimage to myself is never ending.
I always come home in the end.
And what you see is not what you get because I refuse to lay it all out on the table for someone to take.
And what you see, you may not like.
But I pull my string back and release another arrow into the midnight, because I need to run when my legs itch to begin and I need to breathe when my lungs expand in my chest and I need to evaporate, explode, destroy, create, touch, recoil, fly, burrow, trust, invent, float, break, adore, move when I want to.
I can be Aphrodite and Athena and Diana and Kali or nameless, self-contained, comparative to no one.
I can be enormous and destructive like war, like a Zeppelin crashing, like cities burnt and smoldering. All ash and hurt and lashing and red-orange skies that burst and over-flow.
I can be loving and serene, like peace, like lilies on water, like gardens that are tended to. All silk and calm and glaciers and jasmine scented nights that hum and swing like love.
I can be what is and isn't.
I can be everything at once or nothing at all.
No, I'm no fresh-faced beauty.
I'm strength and weakness, beauty and ugliness, femininity and masculinity.
I'm contradictions and similarities and movement and stillness.
I'm here.
And that's all I need to be.

blonde.

Fri, 24 Oct 2008 06:34:48 GMT

"I always have to say hi to you because you're so pretty."

Remember, remember, remember.

Some people are just magic.

a patient of patience.

Wed, 22 Oct 2008 07:40:38 GMT

"Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day." - Rainer Maria Rilke