I think depression creates in me an urgent need to write, but I also believe that daily stress, and even the positive stress of intense happiness, can compel me to express myself through the written word.
Any love that is love is right.
You can’t doubt so much, Psyche.
I think that poetry is perfect for women raising children, with just bits of time and such need to connect to other women out of the isolation of motherhood.
Think of your pain like a bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone has one.
In Mexico people wear hummingbird amulets around their necks to show they are searching for love. Here people pretend that they aren’t. Searching.
Pain can give you sight or make you blind.
You make me feel like I have wings when you touch me.
Morning. Strawberry sky dusted with white winter powder sugar sun. And nobody to munch on it with.
Everything was fine, but Weetzie wanted a baby. “How could you want one?” My Secret Agent Lover Man said. “There are way too many babies. And diseases. And nuclear accidents. And crazy psychos. We cant have a baby,” he said.
Pulling heads off Barbies, sticking them on the TV antenna and ruining the reception. But thats how witch babies are.
Weetzie wished she could shake blue glitter around all of them – keeping them sparkling and safe.
Everything is an illusion; that is the whole thing about it – illusion, immitation, a mirage. It makes me too sad. Its having like a good dream, you know you are going to wake up.
Everything was chocolate ice cream and kisses and wind.
This was not a fearie tale. This was not the movies. This was life. It hurt more. It was excruciating. It was excruciatingly beautiful.
But be careful; sand is already broken but glass breaks. The shoes are for dancing, not running away.
You must reach inside yourselves where I live like a story, not old, not young laughing at my own sorrow, weeping pearls at weddings, wielding a torch to melt sand into something clear and bright.
I wanted him to hold me, to take care of me. To make the pain dissolve away. I know that this was part of what had ruined everything but I wanted it once more anyway.
No matter where I am, I am always loving you.
I dreamed you were standing in this dark place and you touched these dead flowers and they lit up like they were electric or something. Electric lilies. Lighting up the Valley.