Sally Song (Nightmare Before Christmas)

I sense there's something in the wind
That feels like tragedy's at hand
And though I'd like to stand by him
Can't shake this feeling that I have
The worst is just around the bend
And does he notice my feelings for him?
And will he see how much he means to me?
I think it's not to be

What will become of my dear friend?
Where will his actions lead us then?
Although I'd like to join the crowd
In their enthusiastic cloud
Try as I may, it doesn't last
And will we ever end up together?
No, I think not, it's never to become
For I am not the one

Think, think, think

"... ¿has conseguido verme un poco más normal?
o es sólo que he aprendido a actuar frente a vos..."

Babasónicos.

Great Expectations....

No deja de sorprenderme como se suceden las cosas,
las personas juegan a engañar,
pero nuestro cuerpo habla,
nos delata,
se burla de nosotros,
casi, en el mismo instante, que montamos uno u otro personaje...

-¿sos feliz?

_¿qué es la felicidad?

-no sé, un estado....

(no te diré nada)

Elm Sylvia Plath

I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root;
It is what you fear.
I do not fear it: I have been there.

Is it the sea you hear in me,
Its dissatisfactions?
Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness?

Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it.
Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.

All night I shall gallup thus, impetuously,
Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf,
Echoing, echoing.

Or shall I bring you the sound of poisons?
This is rain now, the big hush.
And this is the fruit of it: tin white, like arsenic.

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.
Scorched to the root
My red filaments burn and stand, a hand of wires.

Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs.
A wind of such violence
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek.

The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me
Cruelly, being barren.
Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.

I let her go.I let her go
Diminished and flat, as after radical surgery.
How your bad dreams possess and endow me.

I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?

I am incapable of more knowledge.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches?--

Its snaky acids kiss.
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill, that kill.

Tears Dry On Their Own *** Amy Winehouse

All I can ever be to you,
Is a darkness that we knew,
And this regret I've got accustomed to,
Once it was so right,
When we were at our high,
Waiting for you in the hotel at night,
I knew I hadn't met my match,
But every moment we could snatch,
I don't know why I got so attached,
It's my responsibility,
And you don't owe nothing to me,
But to walk away I have no capacity

He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your way, in this blue shade
My tears dry on their own,

I don't understand,
Why do I stress A man,
When there's so many bigger things at hand,
We could a never had it all,
We had to hit a wall,
So this is inevitable withdrawal,
Even if I stop wanting you,
A Perspective pushes true,
I'll be some next man's other woman soon,
I shouldn't play myself again,
I should just be my own best friend,
Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men,

So we are history,
Your shadow covers me
The sky above,
A blaze only that lovers see

I wish I could say no regrets,
And no emotional debts,
Cause that kiss goodbye the sun sets,
So we are history,
The shadow covers me,
The sky above a blaze that only lovers see,

He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in you way,
My deep shade,
My tears dry..

Fragmento de La campana de cristal (Sylvia Plath)

" Tenía que estar pasándomelo en grande, tenía que estar ilusionada como las otras chicas, pero no conseguía reaccionar. Me sentía quieta y vacía como el ojo de un tornado, moviéndome sin ninguna fuerza. (...)También recuerdo a Buddy Willard diciendo, con una seguridad siniestra, que una vez que me casara me sentiría diferente, que no iba a querer seguir escribiendo poemas. Entonces pensé que quizá fuera verdad, que cuando uno se casaba y tenía hijos era como un lavado de cerebro, y que después una iba por el mundo sedada como un esclavo en un estado totalitario. "

NIN------HURT

una de las canciones más maravillosas que escuché

Empezar en (de) cero

si aprendo a hablar sin torcerme?
si alguna vez demuestro sin exageraciones?
si recupero la palabra para volver a nombrarme?

es una cuestión de perspectiva?
o la vida está empecinada en demostrarme solo un lado?

quiero ser como Isobel, vivir de ella misma y por ella misma,
no quiero aprender a olvidar todo el tiempo,
no quiero aprender a tolerar cada vez mas pérdidas,
no quiero perderme..

-hoy empezás de cero
-si..

otra vez Sylvia Plath... FEVER 103º

Pure? What does it mean?
The tongues of hell
Are dull, dull as the triple

Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus
Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable
Of licking clean

The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin.
The tinder cries.
The indelible smell

Of a snuffed candle!
Love, love, the low smokes roll
From me like Isadora's scarves, I'm in a fright

One scarf will catch and anchor in the wheel.
Such yellow sullen smokes
Make their own element. They will not rise,

But trundle round the globe
Choking the aged and the meek,
The weak

Hothouse baby in its crib,
The ghastly orchid
Hanging its hanging garden in the air,

Devilish leopard!
Radiation turned it white
And killed it in an hour.

Greasing the bodies of adulterers
Like Hiroshima ash and eating in.
The sin. The sin.

Darling, all night
I have been flickering, off, on, off, on.
The sheets grow heavy as a lecher's kiss.

Three days. Three nights.
Lemon water, chicken
Water, water make me retch.

I am too pure for you or anyone.
Your body
Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern ----

My head a moon
Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin
Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive.

Does not my heat astound you. And my light.
All by myself I am a huge camellia
Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush.

I think I am going up,
I think I may rise ----
The beads of hot metal fly, and I, love, I

Am a pure acetylene
Virgin
Attended by roses,

By kisses, by cherubim,
By whatever these pink things mean.
Not you, nor him.

Not him, nor him
(My selves dissolving, old whore petticoats) ----
To paradise.