The Side of the Angels

The Side of the Angels

Necklace
fashionmoriarty.co.uk

Newspaper2
polyvore.com

Polyvore Clipper
kimpertinence.tumblr.com

Sherlock Holmes BBC
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Moonrainbow
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My Pseud

My Pseud

Wall art
etsy.com

Wall art
etsy.com

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I.O.U

I.O.U

I.O.U by shengxi featuring necklaces
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I prefer to Text.

I prefer to Text.

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The Final Problem

The Final Problem

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Autumn Poetry {2}

He who can understand that the story of his higher nature is imbedded in this symbolism will receive intimations concerning a great awakening...

He who can understand that the story of his higher nature is imbedded in this symbolism will receive intimations concerning a great awakening…

Autumn at Hand

Wild tangle.
Trees, branches, a trunk with eyes
gazing at a world
reflected in the still water
kaleidoscope of pond —
what can the world see
in the mirrors
between
hanging there like oblique
stained-glass superimposed
with pine needles
like cordite?
Incendiary.
The logs on the surface
leave their decomposing bodies
like blemishes.

The dead leaves on the forest floor
are rust,
flakes of metal left to dissolve
back into the earth
like the iron they were forged from.
If I think too long
of that sharp metal, I can imagine
the taste of my own sanguine humour,
copper and red like dying summer
heat irradiating, then cold fusion.

The conclusion is left unsaid.
The only way to see the sky is to hang yourself.

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Autumn Poetry

Autumn is my favorite season, and I some how end up with a lot of autumn poetry.


The Ache in My Chest is Loss

I wander around my house
staggering from thought to thought
trying to place this familiar disquiet.

I count the leaves
on my doorstep to distraction.
Futility in spades.

Miscarried, shimmering like vapor,
the wind takes them.

I’ve been here before.

Stranded, a mote of

dust

between two beams of sun.

I should be grateful.
My existence is not transient,
it is gold-soaked autumn.

I am not grateful.

I am vacuous.

Life run out.

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