anima
i am sometimes resolved to solve problems that cannot in fact be solved. does this then make me unsolved, insoluble, or unsolvable? what a weird word, like a salve, but less soothing.
There's hardly any such thing as perfection,
and yet we even want our tea and crumpets perfectly arranged on the tray,
our bed corners perfectly turned over
if only we accepted that we were perfectly imperfect, perhaps we'd save ourselves a world of hurt!
a road i once set out on
wondered where it would take me
frost took the less beaten one
and claims it made all the difference
but what was that difference?
i'll bet he was pretty beaten up
beating an unbeaten path
well to heck with it
i'll take the already weathered route
waiting patiently for your call, wishing you weren't so far away. all i want is to hear your voice, feel your touch, whisper in my ear, tell me a secret, a story, tell me anything. but i guess all i can do is wish. wish you were here, wish you were near, not so far. where are you anyway? i'm tired of wishing, holding this candle out for you.
like my image, my innocence, forever blemished
whatever can be done
when all is tarnished? forever lost,
were i but a blank page, i would perhaps remain
unblemished
bright red and bloodied
rose white, snow red
forever vestal