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why
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly--
A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky
Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxide, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.
O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.
- Poppies in October by Sylvia Plath
things i like
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2011
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November
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- PART 2: rant about art, music, gender, and feminism
- PART 1: rant about punk, race, and gender
- My boyfriend makes memes to express his feelings? ...
- This song makes me want to cry.
- THE INTERNET WHYYYYYY
- Oh my god
- Warhol on Johns
- girlfriend with fucked up face
- In the spirit of internet overshares
- Occupy Wall Street is a TAZ
- Love Letter, Sylvia Plath
- Paralysis
- So catchy
- Sonic Youth
- FUTURUSTIC RAP RAVE
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November
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