w.w.j.d?

hmm.... well, what would he do??

paintings i love:

http://www.paintingsilove.com/artist/biancazileski

the muses are heard:

...ugh :(

fragments of a long forgotten life...

found in archive.

my how things haven't changed...

in your room where souls disappear, with foundations that lasted the ages then ripped apart at their roots, just like the old days. if you don't bring up those lonely parts this could be a good time. will you let the fire die soon? will you let the morning come soon? or will you leave me lying here in your favourite darkness, your favourite half-light.

i'm hanging on your words, living on your breath, all shadows and deliverance under a black flag, ambition in the back of a black car. a sound like a tiger thrashing in the water and i saw my life as i know quickly fade away.
beyond all this good is the terror. just a quick glance and i knew all was lost. i saw the black side of me. it's like learning a new language. a hundred years of blood, crimson, the ribbon, tightens round my throat.
existence, well what does it matter? i exist on the best terms i can. the past is now part of my future, the present is well out of my hands. to remember the past, to remember that day, i open my mouth, black friday, it was not as i thought; a little black haired girl waiting for saturday. her rabid glow is like brail to the night.

the death of her father pushing her. the black and white; the prayer for something better. she says it helps with the lights out. pushing her white face into the mirror. and the real me, the blood, flesh, mind will suffer… will i always be here?

In the depths of every heart, there is a tomb and a dungeon, though the lights, the music, and revelry above may cause us to forget their existence, and the buried ones, or prisoners whom they hide. But sometimes, and oftenest at midnight, those dark receptacles are flung wide open.

In an hour like this, when the mind has a passive sensibility, but no active strength; when the imagination is a mirror, imparting vividness to all ideas, without the power of selecting or controlling them; then pray that your grieves may slumber, and the brotherhood of remorse not break their chain.

chloé has been put in the contraindication category:

my muse...

the film that placed a mark so deep in my heart it hurt...

... the last image isn't affiliated. but it makes one wonder what its all about. it's really up to the viewers interpretation.
mine however is on a different level....

chloe's collection... to die for.

my place, come by any time