My name is Casey

Like Most Revelations

It is the movement that incites the form,
discovered as a downward rapture--yes,
it is the movement that delights the form,
sustained by its own velocity.And yet

it is the movement that delays the form
while darkness slows and encumbers; in fact
it is the movement that betrays the form,
baffled in such toils of ease, until

it is the movement that deceives the form,
beguiling our attention--we supposed
it is the movement that achieves the form.
Were we mistaken? What does it matter if

it is the movement that negates the form?
Even though we give (give up) ourselves
to this mortal process of continuing,
it is the movement that creates the form.

Richard Howard


You turn to me with frozen lips
Your hands are icy cold
Your eyes burn bright against the frostbit sky
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight
Pale on the horizon,
Like leaves frozen on the snow
Our two shadows merge inseperably
And time stands still as its pierced with cold

The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you

There's a warmth in my heart
That haunts me when you're gone
Mend me to your side,
Never let go
So time knows nothing
We'll never grow cold
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you
Twilight descends on our silhouette
How soon spring comes
How soon spring forgets
I wanna hold time, say it'll never begin
Old man winter, be our friend
Old man winter, be our friend
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
What's simple is true
I love you
I love you

designed by jo naz

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

 

Have you read Midsummer's? If not... you should. Not because it's a good play; I hate it. I'm simply identifying... perhaps I should explain further; I've never been a fan of the painfully vague allusion.

She is Hermia- everyone loves her in spite of her hot temper and stubborn will. I am Helena, rejected and insecure. Suddenly with a strange change of fate... everyone loves me... and I am utterly convinced it's all a joke.

It's supposed to go that their eyes are drenched with a flower's juice... that this is what makes them love me... But I feel more as if I am the object of disillusionment. I am the one that believes the false.

I have so many eyes on me and they only succeed in bringing me to my weakest points.

I'm just waiting for the punch line.

Perhaps it was done.. but I begged the question;

itsalljustlovely: This is Casey. I know I'm probably just making more problems by doing this, but could you please tell me why you hate me so much?
itsalljustlovely: I'm sure you'll just ignore that I brought this up, and you have every right to. But I can't stand back and be attacked any longer. Hopefully we can have something resembling a rational conversation concerning this rather than this silent tension.

No answer as of yet, and I'm not expecting one. I'll probably never know the punchline to the joke. It will just go on in that uncomfortable moment between random statement and "hilarious" ending.

I've said it before and I'll say it again- it's better to part laughing than crying... but then why do I spend my time worrying? Likely because I feel it will end with them laughing and me crying. Better for them worse for me.

As would be the general, I allow myself to be sacrificed for the all-important utility that I place so little value in and despise so greatly that I've written 20 point blocks upon it.

I don't articulate myself well sometimes... then again, no one owes me anything. nevermind.

I love you |2:19 PM