insomniaci'm on the sleeping pills again.
you keep telling me i don't need them
and maybe i wouldn't if you were here
but you're not
and i do
(not dreaming is better than dreaming of you
when i know you'll be gone in the morning)
you still insist
i lay awake until 4am
and wishing i was strong
(things are never more beautiful
than at 4am
when the world is all a dream)
Empathica Hes been here. We can feel it.
Light. White light. A swirl of voices.
This very bench, maybe.
The sound of falling water.
Yes, we know it. But where has he gone?
Cold. Snow is falling. How did I end up outside? Red hair in front of me, I follow.
It isnt him. Of course it isnt.
But hes been here. Hes walked these streets.
A horn honks. I come briefly to my senses. The light is red. I cross anyway.
Salvation Army bell-ringers. A trumpet player in a Santa hat. A lady standing on a milk crate screaming of fire and brimstone. So many people, but not the one I seek.
Another redhead. Another failure.
Where could he have gone?
Girl in the Mirror, pt. 8Hmmm, said Dumbledore pensively. I can probably work out a way to send you back, Falyse, but it will likely take me some time.
But what are we to do with her in the meantime? Hermione asked.
She will just have to continue her studies in this time. I can set her up as a transfer student What House are you?
Gryffindor, sir, she murmured, dabbing at her face with the sleeve of her borrowed sweater. Fifth year.
Dumbledore reached into his desk and rummaged around until he found a massive parchment scroll. He wound it out a little more than halfway, muttered something, and tapped it with his wand. There was a brief warm glow, then he looked up with a smile. There. Your name is in the records as a Beauxbatons transfer. Hows your French?
Pas bon, she replied. My mother insisted I take lessons, but I have only just started learning.
Just tell people youre practici
inkblots and bloodstains.the story of my life
can easily be told
in inkblots and bloodstains
holes in the wall
the sun has never smiled on me
and wishes on stars don't come true
dark creeps across my failed attempt
to make something beautiful.
guess beauty isn't my destiny
the stains will never come out.
dear lovedear love-
its snowing again.
and I cant seem to get warm
Ive never liked the winter
(or any season if youre not in it.)
you told me things would get better
but Im not feeling it
no matter how many times you tell me not to
Im going to miss you
lets run away, you and I
go live on a mountain
and be hermits together
as far from the city as we can possibly be
last night I dreamed you were sleeping next to me
when I woke up, you werent there
I should have known it was too good to be true
(but Im always allowed to hope.)