The Misfits- Die, Die My Darling
Don’t utter a single word
Die die die my darling
Just shut your pretty mouth
I’ll be seeing you again
I’ll be seeing you
In hell
The Misfits- Die, Die My Darling
Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.
I want to peer over the edge and see in death
if we are always the same
Tik Tok Cover of the Day: Leave it to the terrorizing timbre of a death growl to make Ke$ha’s “Tik Tok” aurally bearable.
[videogum.]
I love you like the woman I am now. Not the girl I was. I’m battered and bruised and I’m tougher, but I’m still here. I’m scared to death, but I’m more frightened of a life without you.
“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
They use up love, they swallow
every dark grain,
so at the end there’s nothing left,
a scant pile of splinters
on the empty white plate.
— Ellen Bass, from “Eating the Bones,” The Human Line
“I keep / a space for tenderness.”
— Carl Phillips, from “Stamina,” Reconnaissance
“Health.”
[Sigil to protect mental and physical health]
