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“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

--T.S. Eliot, The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

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The Awesome Power of Procrastination

*Trigger Warning: self-harm The power of procrastination is so awesome that even though I have been without Internet access for several hours and I have things that I think I want to do, I have spent that time lying on top of my bed thinking about how I would do all the things I want to do if I were to do them. Very productive. I think that the ideas I have are worth so much more in my head, I can fetishize every negative feeling and pretend that it makes me special or interesting in some way. But when the thoughts become words that I type out and read back, I realise how banal everything about me is. That's probably the real reason writing blog posts and writing in my journal gets a little harder every time. Here is a quick list of the things I should be doing right now: On Tuesday I had a very intense dream that was terrifying enough to make me feel slightly separate from my body all week. Even now, everything feels a little unreal and abnormal; I haven't stopped
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The Copyright Infringement

Decant me an elixir
Distilled from aching heartstrings.
At least ten years matured
In a barrel made from dreams.
Serve it in a tumbler
Engraved with past mistakes.
Each to be remembered
With every sip I take.
Use ice made out of water
That flows from broken things.
And froze because of promises
That never spread their wings.
Tell tales in the amber
Glowing just below the rim.
With the raising of the glass
Flow the stories held within.
Sit and watch me wither
As the spirit takes control.
A steady creeping numbness
That covers up my holes.
Then use a silver stopper
To seal it up again.
And save it for the next time
That I’ll need to drown my sins.
--Mathew Lewis
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