Wednesday, 18 November 2009

polaroids of polar bears...

i bought a book in New York, it had lots of really nice and encapsulating polaorid photographs in it of strange-looking people, flying birds, whittling trees, tall buildings and lakehouses...and now i only have one thing on my xmas wish list. 

i adore the feel of polaroids. they are the surface of stories. they hold so much to them. within the flash of a shutter they ensnare the reality outside of them and form the dimension of something more unveiling the hidden truths we sadly miss. they are the cherishable wonders of life. 

Raped by my childhood?
What the hell do I know about rape anyway?
Well, I guess it's fun to pretend.
Just a thought that occurred when I wasn't quite awake enough
To dismiss it.

It's easy.
(You always used to stay within arms reach.)
To cheapen an event.
(Now it seems I'm all by myself)
By pretending it happened.
Only by pretending it happened.
(Save my life.)

(My life was taken tonight.)
My life.
(My life was ended tonight.)
My life.

Boring cliched self-destruction.
I think I should start doing aerobics.
And the rest...

Boxes of cats,
People with Taz tattoos,
Explosive personalities,
Protractor from your new geometry set,
Inability to do math,

Of polar bears.
(My life)
Of polar bears.


(Alexisonfire : Polaroids of Polar Bears)


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