September 2010
August 2010
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Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my...
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TMI TUESDAY-ING
Never done a TMI tuesday, i doubt anyone will ask anything, but if you’re ill minded, or just curious. Shoot me some questions, i’m freely answering them. :)
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whiskeyanddisregard asked: thanks for the follow, i love you blog :)
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today i'm holding a harry potter marathon
chellatrix:
it’s like my entire life builds up to these days
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