2003-05-19
The Sick Rose
I like how you've decided I no longer exist.
Elliott's coming down late late Thursday night and staying until Monday afternoon, unless my superior plans prevail. Which I doubt. Which means I have four days to get skinnier and tan and to appear carefree.
Riiiiiiiiight.
Thankfully the sun has finally decided to come out, I am going to make full use of it.
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'The Sick Rose'
by William Blake
O Rose, thou art sick.
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh, and don't read Thin Skin by Emma Forrest if you feel you strongly relate to the character. It calls for lots of self-reckoning and insane amounts of inner dialogue.
Okay, time to tan.
aigre-douce at 12:59 p.m.