I don’t need to solve your problems to be proud to see you overcome them. Stay strong, I want to see you smile. I’ll do what I can, but if it’s not enough then I can only hope I’ll see you find it some place else. And that’s when I’ll smile.
Sometimes, I wish I had been a vampire.
Only to have the possibility to have been a youth in time for the 1848 revolutions that swept Europe, been there to witness Bismark unite Germany, watch all the idealism, revolutions, and Literature of the romantic moment reach its climax, and still be young enough to enlist in World War I to see everything I just lived through crumble.
I think sparkling like a fairy every now and then would deffinately be worth sharing a century with Richard Wagner and Victor Hugo.
February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring.
Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas,
Race through the noice of bells and wheels
To where the ink and all you grieving
Are muffled when the rainshower falls.
To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal,
A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees,
Fall down into the puddles, hurl
Dry sadness deep into the eyes.
Below, the wet black earth shows through,
With sudden cries the wind is pitted,
The more haphazard, the more true
The poetry that sobs its heart out.
He once used a $60,000 grant as a bookmark (or $6,000, don’t remember..) and then lost the book.
The sheet of paper I had recently written my first true love poem on I used as a bookmark before I turned it back to the library without thinking to take it out. *sigh*
I’m killing myself over it.
(I guess I’ll just hope this all is aluding to a future of renoun, absent-minded genius.)