I don't fucking know.
I totally ~*loved*~ Pan's Labyrinth. I'm sad I didn't get to see it in the cinema.
I wrote this over the summer in a writing class. I don't really like or pay much attention to poetry. Nothing is ever good (understatement) enough for me, and I don't even know what the fuck it's about, but whatever I'm sleepy so it's going to be posted. Sucks to be you.
This,
Here?
This is where she keeps it.
Look a little to the left.
The knowledge you’ve been so fearful of
stretches beyond your routine vision,
hiding beneath the stench of timeworn shirts
hung upon their ragged wire hangers;
pushed above and away from us.
It is definitely there.
Let’s take a more profound look, together.
This air is stifling;
familiarity helps you to stand it
and you have always been skeptical.
I will tighten my fist around your wrist,
dragging you forward,
tugging at you,
gradually,
lightheaded from hemmed walls,
a shepherd to steer you in the proper direction.
Apprehension abandoned; forsaken.
Grossly insignificant in comparison
to this connection,
between us,
even as these obstacles threaten to wrap you
in ways my flesh cannot.

on Misanaisasif3ll