hearts are burning.

quiet lies and secret tears. wake me up, the sun is dying.

i have seen the earth tremble before me, i have watched the oceans quake. but never before have i witnessed, this sacrificial blaze. between night skies and earthen days, we wear black to bury the ashes we warily reap. and seethe and sow them into the grasses we then solemnly eat.

with vieing eyes, she doth pledge: the fire and water alike will burn holes through the veils you call death.

plight.

i pay homage to my land. the land of the awakened sea. it is a vicious sea, masquerading around what i thought was the intrinsic eye, but instead, the open wound of the swollen womb. her eyes are made of steel and her hands are covered in scars. the color of her skin, fair, but the open pores seep natures bloody dispair. she's not so transparent anymore. but my impending love is still there. holding on to every last hair, she sheds. and i recklessly grasp on to more. ripping out strand by strand in utter desperation for just a moment of her lost stare. she cries golden tears from under her steel lash, but remains still, as i grab those too, a figment of the past. and as she keeps her rigid head turned from the sight of my plight, ceasing all inhabition, she punishably says goodbye.
and that is when my fallen hands became limbs, for they could never betray their kin as she did.


i miss loving her.

shopping second hand is an art form all on its own.

http://secondskinstyle.blogspot.com/

i am fashionably inspired.

shes got amazing clothes, a keen eye, and a great sense of style.. and it's every bit my taste (vintage, vintage, vintage), gotta love it!!



i've got to start posting some of my finds, maybe i'll start wearing them more often! aand we should start having vintage tea parties or vintage wine tastings or vintage whatever so we can all get dolled up and prance around reno (or gardnerville or carson or... paris?) in our AMAZING outfits!! haha.. i'd do it ;)

really though, i love her blog, check it out. and better yet, shes actually selling these amazing finds at her Etsy shop!! GO before I snag em' alllllll!! ;)

grateful dead and a midwest boy, a day for the veterans.

What is it about winter months, long drives, and Bon Iver? Can you smell the evergreen? I still can.

A bee flew into the window. Its yellow and black skin lay still on the shield amidst the wind. It stays in plain sight. The first thing I think: Christ. The second: mother.

My name is Dominique. I am a child of god. Not a king of greatness. I don’t claim holiness, but I aspire for truth.

I saw arils at the store packaged in red. I thought of the mother and her many children, her many a creation. I thought of her intentions and whether or not I was apart of them.

My papa asked about my sister. And tears came to my eyes. I remembered the last thing she said to me. “Here, take it. I sprayed my perfume on it so you’ll remember me.” and I loved her, more than any heart could say “I love you.” And it was at that moment that my voice vanished, my stomach crooned and my crippled heart sank. Then she was gone; and everything became very still. My chest had become the empty void I was trying so hard to constrain. I never would have thought.

He. I remember his hair, his black curly hair. I remember his glasses, his smile, his voice.. his low sultry voice. I remember the way he thoughtfully moved his hair across his eyes, nose, then ears. I remember his uncertainty, his timid reactions and insecure replies. And I remember the look in his eyes; they spoke in ways I never thought were possible, then. They told me things I only understood with him. And then we were holding hands. And then we were sharing lips. And then we were touching skin. And then we were making breakfast for one another, buying secrets for each other, sliding spare keys onto chains for the other. He and I became nothing other than we. And we was magnificent for a while; a short while… until we turned back into I. and it all started slipping away. “We’re in this together,” I said, “we’re a team.” His constant opposing forces broke down my defenses, and that’s when the concept of ‘care’ was obliterated and completely washed away. I watched it as it drifted further and further out with the ebb and flow of shame. And I let it. With outstretched arms, my bloody fire became a quiet charcoaled burn and there was no more fuel to ignite such failure. It died.

And now, the ghost lives on. We still hold hands, share lips, touch skin, make stories, share keys, and dream together. But it’s not the same. The ghost of what it once was watches us as we scream, following us everywhere we go, reminding us of what we once had; keeping us holding on to something that lies six feet under land.

from where i came..

the land that pierced through my heart with the golden spear.

it flooded my being with the grace of the whitest of Light,

willfully raceing through the crown of my head.

ever expanded,

ever surrendured.

the land of many a tear shed, for this is where her yearning womb bled.

where the mountains wed earth and sky, she too watched her body die.

where the pain of submission and ecstacy of union collide,

she too watched as her psyche concieved alive.

that land that brought breath to my being

and a child to her eyes,

remains still.

as a vital moment in time.

old entries.

we all come from the same place. but our experiences are vastly different. it is interesting, the paths we choose, the people we meet, the lives we harbor... and it's all a bit glamorous at times. all trying so hard to be uniquely individualized or ardently noticed. it starts to get all too draining at times. and actively depressing. i don't like feeling like i'm constantly participating in what feels like a competition for selfhood. grand prize: a tumorous ego.


my heart calls upon those that bear the light and ignite the fire. it seeks the strength to understand what this means. and to activate the effort that it entails.
i am but a lone soul. a witness of the light and a threat to the blackened sea. it is my unbreakable endurance, my continual bleed that will forever fight for the highest of these truths. i plead.


i am fighting for peace. my troubled mind has me blind in despair: where is my contentment. where is my humble heart.

bubblegum, fairy tales, and rainbows.

http://biancacasady.com/

god i love her. cocorosie.

tea parties and shooting stars.

feathers and flowered sashes.

a true inspiration.

i need that right now.

love&light, harmony&grace, gratitude, i love you.

peace.

my love, my life. remembering June 3, 2009.

who would've ever known the biggest little has a Zoo.. definitely Reno style... charmingly ghet.

we laughed here, we loved here, we played here. he was in his element; never fully understood until now: nevada, art, black hills, log cabin, fuzzy cuddly nims, furniture, truck, studio, gut. skin, stretch, deer. trophy. hunter. nma.

he's the hot dog in town now. who would've ever thought?.. the lanky kid from souwth dakoota'... nahh, couldn't be.

well deserved.

in love. with you. ever and ever and ever.

the root of all evil.

confusion. struggle. money, money, money. one of the greatest traps we get ourselves stuck in... money and all the fear that comes with it. all i want more in life right now is to leave this little city and explore, dream, and create. but a quick reality check and thousands of dollars of debt later, i feel more stuck than i ever have before. im 25 this year. 25! i don't want to be in reno another year, another season, another, other, other.. i need to break away and breath for once, on my own for once, live for once. ...but how? 

the roots penetrate my frail wings,

as the salty tears cascade into the rain.

what to remember: perception. it's all in my perception. and matter is all an illusion. creation is only a thought away. the secret. my secret. wish it, believe it, own it. and it will come. it will be. my manifestation.

love always.

i am missing him.

a female sea

in twice to you once. i am but the red acrylic mandorla. beat in by the deepening scar. torn apart by the tightened tether. my love for you once wept, but now only soars. beyond breath, beyond water. the ocean is its depth and the universe is its limit. in twice to you once. with love. my life. you are.

another day, another night: Agnus Dei

dark clouds loom over her tender ribs. beaten in by the impending fear. where the soft plump flesh rests, so does that of his rusting spear. quietly sound, vulnerably there. that heart, delicate so, only beats louder as the cries become gasps for air.

blind faith crumbles as the sash falls from her eyes and reluctantly floats to the smoldering depths of his filthy despair.

the scars penetrate his brittle skin, deepening into the unforgiving layers of hell. the black tar moves slowly through his veins, choking off all that breathes; suffocating every threshold of her very embrace. trapped where the light has failed to reach, he sits alone. deep in the crevice of an empty void, a hollow cavity. tarnished, sick, and wet with grief, he sits in the place where his heart once beat.

the earth is changing my life for once. and i can't stop.

New beginnings.. and i am for once ready. very ready.

All things must come to an end for those greater things to begin. 

My Life: beautiful. 

My Love: lost.

My Self: anew.

My Education: over.

My Real Life: about to begin.

Going Raw has changed my life. I am who I used to be, who I've yearned to be, who I have always wanted to be. I am happy. And as sad as it may seem, that is a very difficult thing to have and to hold within this societal confine we live in. Happiness. It's a secret, it's a gem, it's a diamond in the rough. Don't let it go. It's the hardest thing to get back.

**What you thought was love. The love that binds the inner workings of an entangled web. Light, flowing strands, attach the cord to every thing it can, attempting to bind all that lives inside of you, all that breaths, all that is born of your swollen, dying womb. An honest attempt to connect, a naive attempt to grow, to expand: it is the love of the lower nature. It is the love of matter, the love of the screaming darkness, the love of loneliness: always the nature of the vital. A desire. Sticking and wrapping and choking off all circulation, leaving you breathing in contaminated air. Blinding your clearest sight. Believing the sounds you can not hear. And falling into your deepest, darkest despair; dragging your heart, your soul, and your delicate intellect through the pungent feces of the lower vital. And your poor vision keeps you from seeing, your poor will keeps you from trying, your slowing heart keeps you from feeling . Held in contempt, the rage subdued, the numbness pulsating through every moral you thought you had. But instead sold to the devil of despair. Sold to the devil that resides within the deepest desires of your sacred well, left wishing away all memories, hopes, and dreams. Running the well dry, killing your love, your life, your purpose softly.**

This is where I have been, but will never be again; dragging the weight of the world's waste, contaminating everything I sought to do, to try, to acquire, contaminated by the filth that I carry no longer. After years of wasted breath, wasted love, wasted hope, I finally conjured up the strength to let it all go. Simply let go.

And it fell.

It fell so far, so long, I never heard it hit bottom. And I didn't care. I didn't look back. Instead I smiled for the first time in years. I could finally smell the fresh, sweet air, finally breath, finally see. And I ran. One thousand pounds lighter, the feathered wings of my heart dissipated into the light as the landscapes of my past slowly vanished before my eyes. I ran.

Here's to "dojay" and her pregnant womb; and to every single creation/experience/happening she will soon give birth to.

love yourself.

go raw.

peace.

d.rose

dear jayne,

i know what your thinking. and no, tula is not our child and i don't want to make out with you.

i just know how much you obsess over vagina day, so i wanted to make you something.

laugh it up. happy valentines day, i love you.

red contempt.

Love in lovers lost. Like hand in hand in solitude. The land is fraught with plague and haste. Rotting away in hate and disgust. Brown muck and black tar, slowly eating away at the layers that sting beneath the heart. I am what im not and Im not what I am. I am lost. Love in lovers lost. Forever. Feeding off the sticky waste that eats away at my vital arteries, killing me from the inside out, bleeding me from the outside in. this is what you do to me. my seeds do sow the grass from thy land. Thy land of the red. The red contempt.

Hand-made gestures of the unforgettable past. Debilitate my future with every thread attached.

in preparation. but i'm always preparing.

something i thought a lot about today: thesis, performance, climax.

ann hamilton.

it's been nearly a year.

short paths and stunted grass. im screaming to leave. the desire burns more than it ever has before. my accumulation of text books and course gray is done in may. and im ready like a mad dog gone silly. i've been daydreaming, or maybe creating, a lot lately. i see myself in new york: bundled up in layers of clothing, living in a uniquely cramped apartment, walking in and out of bus doors, and quick food stands. staying up until the quiet hours of the morning, listening to davis, making/sewing/mending art/textiles/wounds. this is life and i've been waiting.