10 4 / 2013
adronitis
n. frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone—spending the first few weeks chatting in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different anteroom, each a little closer to the center of the house—wishing instead that you could start there and work your way out, exchanging your deepest secrets first, before easing into casualness, until you’ve built up enough mystery over the years to ask them where they’re from, and what they do for a living.
02 11 / 2012
Jesse Washington
Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant South
The Bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter cry.
“Strange fruit”, Abel Meerpol
(Source: queen-yetta-rosenberg, via haleheart)
13 7 / 2012
White Lace Cage
My heart is colliding
with a white lace cage.
The impact rocks me,
throws me into rounds
of fine line discombobulation
as my nerve endings scramble
like the jittery maze of leftover twine.
Each bloodbursting sound
reminds me that I am
capable of More.
(Source: haleheart)
