Log in

23 September 2011 @ 03:14 pm
The glare of the moon's sepulchritude...
(Salman Rushdie's word again)
09 February 2011 @ 04:26 am
"Insomnia was still her most attentive, cruellest lover, demanding and possessing her selfishly whenever he chose to do so. "
Salman Rushdie, Shalimar the Clown
21 May 2010 @ 01:41 pm
"Of the not very many ways known of shedding one's body, falling, falling, falling is the supreme method."
Charles Kinbote
28 March 2010 @ 01:06 pm
My blood runs thin, my temper short.
I'm filled with the fast winds of emptiness and anger. My sleep has no substance, it leaves me void of myself.
06 September 2009 @ 11:00 am
I like being on the street. I like the energy of the city, the milling about of masses of people as the blue glow of dusk descends and the yellow and orange lamps go on in a maze of light around you.

At night, I love looking at the sky, at the stars that hide under the blinding light pollution of the nocturnal city. I love feeling the cold sting of the outside air on my face, as the rest of my body is warmly muffled up.
28 August 2009 @ 11:37 pm
To fall from the rugged heights of a tired consciousness and sink into the soflty layered abyss of sleep.
30 June 2009 @ 08:31 pm
I don't feel this kind of pain anymore, it has become a familiar sting, a mere irritation of my skin. These little stings don't amount to an all-encompassing malaise, they are washed out by a pain that sits deeper, a pain around which your entire being has been built. That phantom sting at the centre of who you are, whose shadow presence may crystalise, be revived by easy triggers, and that threatens to destroy you.
31 May 2009 @ 09:19 pm
Events, as always, conspire against me. My own decisions lead to exclude me. I feel like, in a profound way, the cards are stacked against me. The extraordinarily good things that could happen don't, they rush past me, grazing me, leaving me in their trail, bruised by jealousy. The standard, lovely things life has to offer and that might assuage, falter.
26 May 2009 @ 10:20 am
Until my stomach will be worm-eaten, and my cough will be blood-tinged, I have anesthesized the pain. But how about getting my blood flow again ? I need to revive my dessicated skin. Emotionally I am growing sterile. The only time I feel blood beat at my temples is in anger.
08 May 2009 @ 11:32 pm
After a soothing dream, I glide into wakefulness and immediately I can feel it hammering in my temples.

Rage reverberates through my being.

As the day passes, I manage to divert my thoughts of course, but in the morning the anger is pure.