I wrote you a letter,
friend,
and put it in my violin
in hopes
that the mere presence
of the
one - eight - eight - six
might cause it to fall away
disintegrate
as if with time
I wrote you such a letter,
lover, friend,
as to tell you the nature
of the universe
as to ennumerate
the untold voltage
of a lightning storm
as to help you understand
why nothingness is black
I wrote you a letter,
and let fall
the truth
from my damned hands
oh that I could tell you
who we are
I know so little.
but my blind hope
is thus:
facit, faciet annis.














Comments
--
But at times the dancing gets a bit too frantic in these hectic days of 1428.
Her is the cutest one.
--
</The Crazy Bohemian>
Haha! I have fooled you! The Cinnamon was actually Basil! Now you will die from Basil Poisoning!
Sucks to your ass-mar.
--
Stop bitching, start a revolution.
-Lucy
--
Stop bitching, start a revolution.
No prob..
--
</The Crazy Bohemian>
Haha! I have fooled you! The Cinnamon was actually Basil! Now you will die from Basil Poisoning!
Sucks to your ass-mar.
aw....
what's the last line mean?
--
and the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love, and the reason i do not fall into this street is love.
-e.e. cummings
ooooh ze last line? ze last line is a bit of trickiness, see. okay. so inside my violin it sais "fecit anno 1886" which means "it was made/he made it in the year 1886" now, "faciet, facit annis" or whatever i wrote means "it is being made, it will be made in the years...." so its like hope for the future. *mwahs*
--
Stop bitching, start a revolution.
--
Stop bitching, start a revolution.
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