Ganz War Mein Herz An Deiner Seite

The sun is always making me feel guilty like go do something. You should be happy, you should be outside, you should be hustlin’ and bustlin’ why are you inside being so boring? Summer is the most totalitarian season of all. I want the winter. The magic, the snow, the quietness, the white sparkly nights. Maybe it’s because life in general scares me. Winter isn’t real life is it? You hibernate, you isolate yourself from others and wait in limbo until its warm, when you should be doing something.

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Then if he thrive and I may be cast away/ The worst was this my love was my decay

Were you but lying cold and dead,
And lights were paling out of the West,
You would come hither, and bend your head,
And I would lay my head on your breast;
And you would murmur tender words,
Forgiving me, because you were dead:
Nor would you rise and hasten away,
Though you have the will of the wild birds,
But know your hair was bound and wound
Above the stars and moon and sun:
O would, beloved, that you lay
Under the dock-leaves in the ground,
While lights were paling one by one.-William Butler Yeats

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O ME! what eyes hath love put in my head,  
Which have no correspondence with true sight:  
Or if they have, where is my judgment fled  
That censures falsely what they see aright?  
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,          
What means the world to say it is not so?  
If it be not, then love doth well denote  
Love’s eye is not so true as all men’s: No,  
How can it? O how can love’s eye be true,  
That is so vex’d with watching and with tears?          
No marvel then though I mistake my view:  
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.  
O cunning Love! with tears thou keep’st me blind,  
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find!

Du, ich fühle mich augenblicklich wirklich, glücklicher als glücklich!

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nelya shenklyarska

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Hundert Lieder möch`t ich singen, die in meinen Herzen klingen, und jedes Lied sagt: Ich liebe dich so.

The Past Beats Inside Me Like A Second Heart

I am not afraid of dying pieces of me die all the time

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I wish you’d find the exit outside my head-Virginia Woolfe

I am lonely, yet not everybody will do, I don’t know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness.-Anaïs Nin

Boy I Gotta Watch My Body I’m Not Just Anybody

Midnight Grindin’
My Heartrate’s Climbin’
You Go, I Go
Cause We Share Pillows
Chase Me, Leave Me
There’s Still No Separating
Morning Massages
With New Bones In Your Closet

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Did it matter, then, she asked herself, walking towards Bond Street, Did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely. All this must go on without her. Did she resent it? Or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely. It is possible to die. It is possible to die.-Virginia Woolfe

He Looked Inside Me

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This wasn’t supposed to happen,
I was happy by myself.
Accidently, you seduced me,
I’m in love again.
I lie in my bed,
Totally still,
My eyes wide open.
I’m in rapture.
I don’t believe this,
I’m in love again!
This wasn’t
Supposed to happen,
I’ve been hit
With your charm.
How could you do this
To me?
I’m in love

You’ve put a seed inside me,
And while you’re away,
It’s growing silently,
Starts in my stomach.
Embraces my insides,
And about to reach my heart.
This wasn’t supposed to happen!
This wasn’t supposed to happen!
This really hurts!

Nimm dich in Acht vor blonden Frauen

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Wenn eine Frau dich verstrickt ins Liebesspiel,
Prüfe zuerst ihren ganzen Sex appeal.
Sieh dir ihr Haar erst auf seine Farbe an,
Weil man daraus den Charakter deuten kann.
Dunkle Frauen sind ja gewöhnlich sanft wie der Mond,
Schwerer durchschauen wirst du die süßen Racker in blond.

Nimm dich in acht vor blonden Frau’n,
Die haben so etwas Gewisses!
‘s ist ihnen nicht gleich anzuschau’n,
Aber irgend etwas is’ es.
Ein kleines Blickgeplänkel sei erlaubt dir;
Doch denke immer: Achtung vor dem Raubtier!
Nimm dich in acht vor blonden Frau’n,
Sie haben so etwas Gewisses.


Jedermann glaubt, die Blonden sind naiv!
Sei auf der Hut, stille Wasser sind tief!
Mal dir kein Glück mit den blonden Kätzchen aus,
Eh’ du’s geahnt, kommen schon die Krallen raus!
Und wenn das Blondchen all deine Lieb mit Treue dir lohnt,
Ist sie ganz sicher heimlich geforben wasserstoffblond.

Nimm dich in acht vor blonden Frau’n,
Die haben so etwas Gewisses.
‘s ist ihnen nicht gleich anzuschau’n,
Aber irgend etwas is’ es.
Ein kleines Blickgeplänkel sei erlaubt dir;
Doch denke immer: Achtung vor dem Raubtier!
Nimm dich in acht vor blonden Frau’n,
Sie haben so etwas Gewisses.

I Want You, But You’re An Asshole You Know That?

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Why is your love so anemic?

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“I’ve wanted to want it. I should think it would be exciting to become a dissolute woman.”

“Every form of happiness is private. Our greatest moments are personal, self-motivated, not to be touched.”

“I like to think of fire held in a man’s hand. Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips. I often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone, watching the smoke of a cigarette, thinking. I wonder what great things have come from such hours. When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind–and it is proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression.”

Ayn Rand

You really pour the honey on then you lick it off

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but why do i have to wait for you to call? why do you get all the power? why do i have to be passive? why don’t you love me? don’t you know you’re lucky to have me? don’t you know i’m a princess?

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I Hate You

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Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the left
You’ll find my favorite axe
Don’t look so frightened
This is just a passing phase
One of my bad days
Would you like to watch T. V.?
Or get between the sheets?
Or contemplate the silent freeway?
Would you like something to eat?
Would you like to learn to fly?
Would you like to see me try?
Would you like to call the cops?
Do you think it’s time I stopped?
Why are you running away?

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Nothing anyone does for me is ever enough, and if he makes me sad he sucks.

keep hatin’ I’ma fold your bitch

Firm, nigga what? Get my twat licked

Never love a trick, get him for his chips

Fuck him and his dick, nigga where the six?

He actin’ like a bitch, should’ve known this

Got the stone the wrist, I ain’t no bonin’ this

Bomb ass shit, I could play with my shit


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More of the shit to hold you with, keep hatin’ I’ma fold your bitch

Should’ve known to control that chick, hoes mad, ‘cos I roll the six

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Dumb ass, think I slept in your bumm ass

Knew the whole stee ’bout a chip like me

Did it ori G-P, let you eat me

Couldn’t even freak me, I’m better off with the TV

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I don’t know why I’m always sad. Sometimes I feel like a little girl. I’m twenty now. I feel like I’m five, but it’s funny because when I was five I felt like I was twenty. I must have been born two people. I feel like I’ve lived before, that’s why I want to be a kid again. That was the best. When you were five years old and you were smart enough to understand things, but untouched enough to be happy momentously. That won’t ever happen again.




Know how to cut them, know how to read them,
Know how to stain them, know how to prove them,
Know how to evoke them, know how to score them,
Know how to send them know how to send them


“I know that I hung on a windy tree

nine long nights,

wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin,

myself to myself,

on that tree of which no man knows

from where its roots run.

No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn

downwards I peered;

I took up the runes, screaming I took them,

then I fell back from there.”

In Old Norse 

“Veit ec at ec hecc vindga meiði a

netr allar nío,

geiri vndaþr oc gefinn Oðni,

sialfr sialfom mer,

a þeim meiþi, er mangi veit, hvers hann af rótom renn.

Við hleifi mic seldo ne viþ hornigi,

nysta ec niþr,

nam ec vp rvnar,o

pandi nam,

fell ec aptr þaðan.”

wtf is wrong with our generation

I wish I lived during Walther von der Vogelweide’s time period. I don’t belong here. Everyone is so awful to one another. There isn’t any real love or loyalty. I feel isolated. In the early pagan days I feel like there was a community to which everyone belonged and served a purpose. They relied on each other for help because life was hard. Life is easy now so easy we don’t even need each other. How purposeless. And we just keep living longer and longer.



My friends and I celebrated so hard we listened to Nirvana until four in the morning and continually pointed at the shrine we made of Kurt to honor his gifts to us. We love you buddy, be well and blessed be from the pagan community.



“Dying in general or like dying from drugs? I’ve thought about dying all my life just like any normal person.”

Happy Birthday Kurt Cobain! February 20th! Best day ever!

It is Kurt’s birthday in two days so my friends and I are going to celebrate and only listen to Nirvana records. My dad doesn’t understand why I love him so much, but Kurt is like our John Lennon. I was born in 1991 so I was too young to know about them, but in elementary school at a wee age of 8 we were already in love with  Nirvana. I think the angst and mitleid our generation has was summed up in his music.

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