Choked

January 23, 2012
By lookingformargo SILVER, Ithaca, New York
lookingformargo SILVER, Ithaca, New York
8 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
A child said, "What is the grass?" fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven... and now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. -Walt Whitman, Leaves Of Grass


We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken. We think that we are invincible because we are. We cannot be born, and we cannot die. Like all energy, we can only change shapes and sizes and manifestations. They forget that when they get old. They get scared of losing and falling. But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail. -Looking For Alaska

Here's what's not beautiful about it: from here, you can't see the rust or the cracked paint or whatever, but you can tell what the place really is. You see how fake it all is. It's not even hard enough to be made out of plastic. It's a paper town. I mean look at it, Q: look at all those cul-de-sacs, those streets that turn in on themselves, all the houses that were built to fall apart. All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning things. All the things paper-thin and paper-frail. And all the people, too. I've lived here for eighteen years and I have never once in my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters. -Paper Towns

It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world. -Paper Towns

Elsewhere the landscape is more frank.
The light falls without letup, blindingly. - A Life, Sylvia Plath


We fall apart because we must

When the sound of waves breaking like hearts
Brushes our ears
And withdraws
Shyly

When the words that used to come easily
Stick in our throats
Choked by stories we wished to become
Replaced by the way we are

When apologies fall flat
And we no longer whisper love
Into the wind
Into the palms of our hands



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