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All I know is, when you hold me,
you're dreaming rosy, rosy when you hold me.

“It was as though she practiced some wicked art: black magic, voodoo, or poetry.”
―Valerie Martin, The Ghost of the Mary Celeste

via russ mezikofsky photography

Posted by Leanna - Thursday, February 12, 2015 - 11:00pm


*

“I’ve a strange feeling come over me—almost as if I were going to think!”
— Aleister Crowley, Moonchild
 

Posted by Leanna - Wednesday, February 11, 2015 - 8:55pm


.

Night Time by Field Of Roses

if you go outside at night
after the world has gone to sleep
you can hear the planet sigh
under the secrets it can't keep
and the wind sings different tunes
to the ones you hear by day
as though it's choking on the words
that we're too afraid to say
for how can we see its weakness
when we've not known something so strong
and if it weeps and we can't hear it
does it mean there's nothing wrong ? "

 

Posted by Leanna - Wednesday, February 11, 2015 - 8:25pm


.

“Oblivion of words will form

the exact language for

understanding the glances of

our closed eyes.

You are here, intangible

and you are all the universe which

I shape into the space of my

room. Your absence springs

trembling in the ticking of the

clock, in the pulse of light;

you breathe through the mirror. From

you to my hands, I caress

your entire body, and I am with

you for a minute and I am with

myself for a moment. And my

blood is the miracle which

runs in the vessels of the air

from my heart to yours.”

— Frida Kahlo, to Diego from The Diary of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-portrait

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Posted by Leanna - Tuesday, February 10, 2015 - 11:06pm


'Eden'

" The Expulsion from Paradise is eternal in its principal aspect: this makes it irrevocable, and our living in this world inevitable, but the eternal nature of the process has the effect that not only could we remain forever in Paradise, but that we are currently there, whether we know it or not. "
― Franz Kafka

Posted by Leanna - Tuesday, February 10, 2015 - 11:00pm


“Here is my secret. It’s quite simple: One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes. It’s the time that you spent on your rose that makes your rose so important. People have forgotten this truth,” the fox said, “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose…”

- The Little Prince

'

Posted by Leanna - Tuesday, February 10, 2015 - 7:36pm


February 10, 2015, 7:15 p.m.

 

Dear Lover, 

 

You've forgotten how to sleep, or at least rest your wearied mind.  You have discovered that you are the girl whom others divulge their deepest secrets and greatest fears.  Always curiously in succession, within days of each other.  When your beloved are in need, it is you who is the calm in the storm, the beacon of safety and hope in the midst of wailing winds and dangerous waves.  Take me out to sea, ship in a bottle girl.  Never to return.  

 

Each hour of the day is almost tedious, for waking daylight wearies you.  You are a creature of the night, belonging in darkness.  You wait all day for mother moon, craving to be wholly submerged in your sea or in the stars.  Bathwater brings a certain comfort that nothing else can touch upon.  Reminiscent of love spells, like hands through your hair and kisses on your skin.  'I am breathless with the thought of you...  I tremble with your touch.'

 

You read some poetry this evening and were moved to shivers and tears.  You feel too much, too often.  Sometimes there is so much beauty in the world, you feel like you can't take it, and your heart is just going to cave in.  Sometimes you hate yourself for feeling all these feelings far too much, and far too often.  Emotions are varying colors, with every hue and nuance of a rainbow, miles long and wide and deep...  and endless, depthless.  Red is passion.  Blue is sorrow.  Violet is magick.  Over and over.  

 

Let me plant flowers within you.  'I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.'  

 

Good night.  

x

Posted by Leanna - Tuesday, February 10, 2015 - 6:14pm


.

DAWN, n. The time when men of reason go to bed.  Certain men prefer to rise at about that time, taking a bath and a long walk with an empty stomach, and otherwise mortifying the flesh.  They then point with pride to these practices as the cause of their sturdy health and ripe years; the truth being that they are hearty, not because of their habits, but in spite of them.  The reason we find only robust persons doing this thing is that it has killed all the others who have tried it.
— Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary

Posted by Leanna - Monday, February 9, 2015 - 5:41am


Dawn is a feeling

A beautiful ceiling

The smell of grass

Just makes you pass

Into a dream



You're here today

No future fears

This day will last

A thousand years

If you want it to



You look around you

Things they astound you

So breathe in deep

You're not asleep

Open your mind



You're here today

No future fears

This day will last

A thousand years

If you want it to



Do you understand

That all over this land

There's a feeling

In minds far and near

Things are becoming clear

With a meaning



Now that you're knowing

Pleasure starts flowing

It's true life flies

Faster than eyes

Could ever see



You're here today

No future fears

This day will last

A thousand years

If you want it to
Posted by Leanna - Monday, February 9, 2015 - 3:55am


.:*

i wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul.

Posted by Leanna - Sunday, February 8, 2015 - 1:43am