"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

wake up wanting to cut your ear off. the moons the only thing laughing at you for not being able to sleep. you're reminded of the eyes you've fell for. sway with them for a bit. drink red paint to ease the pain. cut it off. give it to some girl you just met. playing only the white notes on a piano. drink more paint. cut off the nose this time. give it some other girl you just met. read Tolstoy. to ease the pain.

I'm new here in HePo; the question on what the most accurate emotion i should be surrounding my dome in is baffling me.

It feels relieving (or mayhaps that feeling you get when you first step on a room full of new faces and the thought that maybe, just maybe you belong here darts in your head) to see many spiffing wordsmiths who're just as vulnerable as i always supposed myself to be but at the same time I feel helpless for maybe if i were a little more confident, i would give feed backs, try to talk to and send virtual hugs and comfort to people who're hurting and are low in spirits, such as me.

It's all too much.

But as a simple reminder for everyone who sees this, not to mention myself, here is a beautiful quote i stumbled upon in a blog many moons ago.

"It may get worse before it gets better but it will get better."

Be patient. Be heedful.

Try--try to not give up.