Bamafedimatiarjucatopist.

For the love of whatever it's worth, don't treat me like I'm meant to.The feisty days are over now. We've all grown so much older and wiser it hurts to take a look back at what our image of reality used to look like.  Those things we yearned for, will they ever be the same again? Why do our dreams change all the time, getting less eccentric and more reasonable within just weeks or months? Why do our loved ones turn into the pivot of our lives? Why do we have to realise we're just so small and meaningless when there's still people to count on us? How does our youth trick us into thinking of physical pleasures as the only way out - and then again, why do we not scrutinise? The series of mistakes never to be undone, the insignificant hours wasted in the sun, or in the big, yellow light that looked not a whit like it, though it was so easy to pretend... Oh blissful widow that you were, why do you loathe yourself like that? And where is the one, supposed to make you smile?

Vatnið rennur av høgum fjøllum og eftir hvøssum gróti

So ilt er at leggja ást við hann ið onga leggur ímóti.

Time goes on, lives change with it. Those things which make us strong today are bound to weaken us tomorrow. Whenever we breathe, we take another step closer towards death. Who could save us from ourselves? How painful it is to love him who doesn't love back.

For being dead we're pretty live

Black encore

 

Slumber, serene sinisterness
And vain thine anger be,
Thou cannot capture all the mess
Thou wilt not torture me.

A woman's heart is never bare,
It may yet seem forsaken,
And pure hearts may be keenly rare
For those are mostly taken.

My very own heart is indeed
Not easily forgotten,
Though everyone doth surely treat
This heart like it is rotten.

O soberness, be granting me
The darkest nights - and so
Return my heart and all I see
Be shallow minds that grow. 

 

Serenity is taking part

Of what I used to be,
And thus I can no longer guard
What once belonged to me.