Every wave from the screen is reverberating back over me, it’s making me sick with technicolor green. The faces of all that I love have changed. They’re so pale, alabaster, quiet and veined with mud. Like monsters born from wells that overflowed with the flood. I had the touch of death on my hands, it stuck beneath my nails. And all I hear now is the snapping of bones, the wind ripping through the sails. The last, little light shining out from the bottom of my soul.
“Ocularis” hitRECord Summer Collection Design
Is this place just a box? An ornamental crate to fill with the memories I’ve collected and the love I have lost? Should I organize it by color and cost, build a pyramid out of the things I’ve learned? I think it’s a coffin, I think it’s a grave. As much as I’d have liked to revive it, there’s nothing left to save. Your heart stopped beating, and the cold crept in. You became the cave you’ve so effortlessly painted. So I’ll close the door to hell and the heat, and head for the snow, where my body will keep.
Shirt Designs Contributed To hitRECord’s Summer Collection.
Gardens.
Oh, what a bridge we have burned. The space between two hearts, and the love that goes unlearned. I will be with you always, but that doesn’t mean you should leave me to rust. I carried the urn for your unsanctioned saints, I built you an island from the chips of old paint. You’ll find that you’re too soon in love, with the first wolf, the brass smile, the lion’s rotting tongue. Share it with the world. Show them you’ve climbed above the ridge. But we’ll all remember what it took to break you in.
I’ve seen the greatest of structures collapse into pieces. The skeletons of kings laid quietly inside glass boxes. Their crowns are all but rusted over, their mouths are always smiling. It’s a world we’ve built around the dead and the dying. Sing the praise of the gallows, raise your hands to the hangman. I think we’ve all found love to be a crooked thief, but we allow him to steal from us just the same. It’s comforting to know someone wants something we have. It salves the wounds of the night, to breathe each other in with the dark.
Dreamers.
“…Learn How To Live” -Foer (Wallpaper Version)
“I Regret That It Takes A Life To Learn How To Live.” -Foer
