From the monthly archives:
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when u reach the end that’s when u get to start all over again
&
if you tire or bore
take some time to be
&
try, try again.
poo
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she did not mind her days alone,
away from the eyes outside.
it was better this way,
her secret stories hidden,
so no one could touch them.
her sisters cared more for the eyes and ears,
collecting charms to wear around their necks.
the mouths whispering -
beautiful, beautiful, why did it matter
she wondered…
she was free, still, like a child,
the way it was before you are seen..
and then after that
you can never…
remember who you are
unless someone shows it to you.
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excerpt from Glass by Francesca Lia Block
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no meaning = art
earth is art
poozee
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