Love Cult is the rule of today
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MARY TIMONY IS A GODDESS ANYWAYS
I am undergoing severe depression laced with passive malice against life and it feels like I won’t recover from it. Terrible but in a way good as it stands. With this background, my first (and perhaps last) piece of poetry came to pass and to the fore. It reads suicidal as I feel. Oh, I hate living in Korea very much.
Depression is a hole within
Behind the eyes,
Shaping me with dumb fingers
Ready to leak into the world in sad attire
The eyes wet,
It dies when it lives
Depression is pure and deep like a sea
I sink every moment with inaction
How far down I will never know until discontinuation
I am a word that carries a void
Unspoken yet written in the chasm
I am nothingness trapped in a skin,
A beauty maligned by the passion of people
I long for a form lazily
How long until I am the matter?
For the world to touch,
For I to feel
The wind blows softly,
I see myself scattered, cindered
I am embarrassed that it took such a long time for me to learn Woods are this good.
Hello, here is an excellent learner, if late sometimes.
A new cine-musical effort from the one and only The Courtneys. It’s what we have come to expect from the infallible Canadian punk-pop triad: youth-affirming (or in my case, youth-squeezing) awesomeness. What more do I need to say?