Sleeping Deeply All Alone - 1.27.12

I'm not self-disciplined enough, but my rage, strength and power are indisputable. A not-yet-errupted sensation, I am dark and whimsical, difficult to categorize, and smelling faintly of old-worldism and the kind of nostalgia for lost childhood that tortures and haunts one's soul till the very end... 

It's hard for me to write, honestly. Being bare, and detailed with the bareness, even harder. This heart has seen many blurred nights. Memory is mischievous in its hold on me, I wonder at my own happenings like at a detached fictional character's. I dream in bold colors that have no words in any language to describe them. Flat expanses and also, ravines and caves. Monstrous scrapers (buildings) and endless hallways, wooden doors, their knobs, silent slow-motion traffic, territorial characters claiming their stock in my tangle of brain and soul, sleeping deeply all alone. 

If I could shed my love onto you - crisply, undeniably - I'd pour all of it. 
Just the love of words alone, the love of books and games, secrets, thrones, demigods and whispers. Everything. All at once. 

The deep-hidden frosted princess, the sullen girl, the muse. Moments matter not. She encompasses all time and space, all dimension and reality. She is a question, and her own answer never ceases, never tells, never consummates the pondering. On and on and on, she thinks. Beauty, things of beauty, encircle and inspire her. But on and on, she lives and breathes harmonic flutters, bird-wing and sunlit horizon, senselessness, whimsy, love's trajectory, engaging and endless. 

Elena Lentini, amazing dancer.