*photos via we heart it and wetbehindtheears. Also, the collage-like images are by an artist who refers to himself as hyperborean on deviant art.com. His...or perhaps it's a her?...anyway their art is really awesome so, check out their full profile and gallery to see all of the works.
*After thoughts:
In case anyone has noticed, nostalgia is clearly a huge inspiration for me in my writing and well, in my life as well. I definitely associate the feeling and/or being of nostalgia as a pleasant sort of ghost who is gold as nostalgia to me is visible in certain moment of light. Particularly in the kind of gilded light on my windowsill that falls in early morning or mid afternoon. I just thought I would explain that further in case anyone did not understand the comparisons that I have made several times on this blog.
*Also, last evening I just watched the movie, Whatever Works by Woody Allen. It stars Larry David and Evan Rachel Wood...and it was pretty awesome. Any fans of Curb would definitely love this quirky film.
three petals left
three fallen petals drop against the glass
tainted in red velvet, the cold surface
they drop one by one with slow candorsunrise forgotten without regret
you too, will remember how
to forget.
each rose petal, once one with an
intrinsic budded whole, pleads to
be left alone. but we still remember
the grace and style by which they fall
forget me not, remember me in redfor golden nostalgia shall be stricken
in love so dehydrated and nourished
thoroughly throughout the fall
let it bud alongside the blue of the moon
for each dear sequence of frozen memory
will water the darkness and manifest our
gradual bloom
the secrets embedded in each petal unfold
to stain our minds in color
and we will forget how to remember
how to forget the process of regret
i will not forget the fumes of the rose bush
the day our hands met
-mm
your eyes toxic with asshole evils
and your mouth stuffed with slices
of the 7th most deadly sin
and eats up all your stolen words just
to spit them right back out at you
just after they had lost their flavor
your arms loaded in bronzed danger
could lift me up to see the sun in the
golden afternoon while every ray of
darkness, blackens out our hearts;
and love forms a sweet cancer
each moment melting nostalgia
and her hazy after thoughts, erasing
those not to be remembered
each gilded glimpse to bleach the mind
without you and your transparent smile
I will with in time, forever savor your heart is a scarlett flower
burning in blue smoke
withholding my own, with its poison apple
ashes dust away, sweetness rotted souryour flower is tangled between the ashy vines
and wilted promises
dying underneath your tar scented leaves,
it beats along to black magic, its aching
power
because I ran out of water ,
I used my spit to bloom the flower
and then senseless sun pleads with me notand dries out the beauty of you
too soon,
forgot
It rains now in excess
but it's too late now.
i give up and bow
for nature has won again
and always will
-mm
bullets of rain
drop and fall
like mirrors-
broken-
into a million peices
of rotten diamond.
scattered upon the black concrete-
shattered above all the melted minds
tossed into an underground dumpster-
lost.
broken fragments melt away to nothing
a mere peice of ourselves before
we dehydrate at lastwho we were before them each time-
who we are now-
another chip off the whole of a diamond.
-mm
