In the past hour, the Israeli army has attacked a Turkish float filled with humanitarians from around the world carrying aid to Gaza. The ships were on international waters, and 3 people are reported dead. Nothing on this in the US media.
Of course there is nothing in the US media about it, the US has always been pro-Israel, no matter what they do. Disgusting indeed. We are not getting the news, we are only getting the part of the news they want us to see.
Sometimes I miss you. And I just hope that you’re doing okay. I’d like to talk to you. I just know neither of us would have anything to say… You meant a lot to me. And parts of me still care sometimes. I hope that you’re okay. I hope that you’re alright.
My friend, Brayden, and I were having this conversation and he came across this and told me to read it. I haven’t yet because I was working on homework at the time in addition to having the conversation. I still haven’t gotten around to checking it out yet so I’m posting this here so I can find it again later (I was getting tired of keeping the tab open on Google Chrome).
I’ve only lightly skimmed (and I mean lightly) through it but it seems pretty interesting.
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.
Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
I've been talking to a stoner friend a lot recently.
And I super appreciate it. Like, I can’t completely comprehend how much it has done for me this week alone. He’s incredibly deep and intelligent and has been incredibly thought provoking on significant levels.
And it’s helped me in some other ways and I think some self realization to how I’ve been feeling lately.
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.
i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh … And eyes big love-crumbs,