Tina

“Now I can see: even the trees
are tired: they are bones bent forward


in a skin of wind, leaning in
osteoporosis, reaching


for a little more than any
oxygen can give: when living


is in season, they can live;
but living is no reason


to continue: everything begins:
and everything is desperate


to extend: and everything is
insufficient in the end:


and everything is ending:
Now I can see: even the trees”
― Malachi Black

“Be careful. There are people out there who will look at your love only as a place to put their pain.”
― Beau Taplin

“Melancholy overwhelms me at supersonic speed.”
― Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog

“The first study for the man who wants to be a poet is knowledge of himself, complete: he searches for his soul, he inspects it, he puts it to the test, he learns it. As soon as he has learned it, he must cultivate it! I say that one must be a seer, make oneself a seer. The poet becomes a seer through a long, immense, and reasoned derangement of all the senses. All shapes of love suffering, madness. He searches himself, he exhausts all poisons in himself, to keep only the quintessences. Ineffable torture where he needs all his faith, all his superhuman strength, where he becomes among all men the great patient, the great criminal, the great accursed one--and the supreme Scholar! For he reaches the unknown! ....So the poet is actually a thief of Fire!”
― Arthur Rimbaud