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Jan. 19th, 2006 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleXXIX
Heart, have no pity on this house of bone:
Shake it with dancing, break it down with joy.
No man holds mortgage on it; it is your own;
To give, to sell at auction, to destroy.
When you are blind to moonlight on a bed,
when you are deaf to gravel on the pane,
Shall quavering caution from this house instead
Cluck forth at summer mischief in the lane?
All that delightful youth forbears to spend
Molestful age inherits, and the ground
Will have us; therefore, while we're young, my friend -
The Latin's vulgar, but the advice is sound.
Youth, have no pity; leave no farthing here
For age to invest in compromise and fear.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I've been lost in a welter of nerves and lust and hope and fear and joy all day, tasting each emotion like a rare wine, or a secret, hidden, only-for-special-occassions candy. Even the pain I've been savouring, enjoying in some perverse way the feeling of wind on my flayed, open-to-the-sky bones, stripped of the safety of my skin.
And then Jenny, my friend, ran out of here to the hospital: her sister, with stage four bone cancer, was rushed into surgery this morning after doctors removed so much fluid from around her heart that it can't beat properly.
I'm afraid to pray for Mon, the sister, who has met me perhaps three times and has hugged me thoroughly every time. Every time I pray for something, I get a monkey's-paw response.
Heart, have no pity on this house of bone:
Shake it with dancing, break it down with joy.
No man holds mortgage on it; it is your own;
To give, to sell at auction, to destroy.
When you are blind to moonlight on a bed,
when you are deaf to gravel on the pane,
Shall quavering caution from this house instead
Cluck forth at summer mischief in the lane?
All that delightful youth forbears to spend
Molestful age inherits, and the ground
Will have us; therefore, while we're young, my friend -
The Latin's vulgar, but the advice is sound.
Youth, have no pity; leave no farthing here
For age to invest in compromise and fear.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I've been lost in a welter of nerves and lust and hope and fear and joy all day, tasting each emotion like a rare wine, or a secret, hidden, only-for-special-occassions candy. Even the pain I've been savouring, enjoying in some perverse way the feeling of wind on my flayed, open-to-the-sky bones, stripped of the safety of my skin.
And then Jenny, my friend, ran out of here to the hospital: her sister, with stage four bone cancer, was rushed into surgery this morning after doctors removed so much fluid from around her heart that it can't beat properly.
I'm afraid to pray for Mon, the sister, who has met me perhaps three times and has hugged me thoroughly every time. Every time I pray for something, I get a monkey's-paw response.