An Ode to Cats

The dark tail swishes,
twitches
once, twice, and stills
as the beast stalks her prey
(quite unknowing
humming gently under their breath)
and she crouches, low
silent, careful
velvet and steel on white-stained grass
Creep just
 a little
   closer and

POUNCE

The prey is hers—
a satisfied purr
body cleverly entwined
around the captive's legs
That twinkle is not evil, no
but your heart has been stolen
(all
   over
     again)
and is being softly held
between small, playful paws.

!!!!!!!!
http://www.thecontrarianmedia.com/2010/01/christopher-lee-to-release-metal-album/

Behold the Man review

[Jitter], your gift arrived! Thank yous :3
I just hope I can actually use 'em... strong scents tend to cause me headaches <_<

11:36 <nekorin> Moi. Sä et oikeastaan tunne mua, mutta älä välitä siitä. Mäkään en tunne sua mutta se ei oikeastaan kiinnosta mua. Ajattelin vain kertoa että jos kohtelet mun Lamia huonosti niin sivelen sun kivekset hunajalla ja köytän sut kiinni muurahaispesään. <3

Now this is sisterly love. :3 Laura said this to Lauri (and isn't that hilarious?) a couple of weeks ago. Translation:

Hi. You don't really know me, but don't pay that any mind. I don't know you either but that doesn't really matter to me. I just thought I'd tell you that if you treat my Lami badly I'll paint your testicles with honey and tie you up in an ants' nest.

Frustration occasionally leads to experimentation.
One of these days I will write a poem with no punctuation and not one single capital letter.

... maybe.


blink

quietly, tendrils of sleep
withdraw
ebb
leaving fragments

can almost taste, almost
hear but never touch

even reaching
farther than arms
can go
  ...made of clay
  tied down, bound

to the ground

melody becomes whisper, then silence
flit far away
into realm of dreams


I open blurred eyes
and cannot follow.

Book 1 of 42. :3

Wildfire by Sarah Micklem review

Received a Vorkje-card. <3
_{(You accidentally changed my surname. :3})

So in a nice little twist of the usual routine, I'm now apparently going to be counting days until I see the boi again. :P Not that I don't like being home and seeing my people just as much as before, but damn.
Well, the same countdown nicely doubles as horror panic death because I'm supposed to get some uni work done and the deadline to turn in the IntroLit term paper is an hour and a half after I return to Oulu. So yeah.

I'm making a toy for Surma (the tiny black cat who lives with my boi) out of gift-wrapping ribbon, yarn and an old Christmas ornament. I think I'm pretty much a goner on both counts. xD

Fascinating.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/22/science/22angi.html?_r=2

Oh yeah, and:

Hyvää joulua!
Frohe Weichnachten!
Merry Christmas!
God jul!
Feliz Navidad!
Prettige Kerstdagen!
etc.

I am now the happy owner of prints of Sir Edward Byrne-Jones's Pygmalion and the Image, parts III and IV. I'd be happier if I found parts I and II somewhere to complete the series, but these two are already pretty damn awesome.

I love [Triola]. <3<3<3
_{(That is to say, the present was here waiting and you are teh best evar.)}

I can has boifrend. His name is Lauri.
He makes music, lives with a tiny black cat, and is really rather funny and cute. He is also a techie student.
Let's see how this one goes.

*dork*


A Philologist's Love Poem

Words press, unformed,
weighing heavily against the breastbone
striving to break for the larynx;
waiting to be uttered,
to be expelled in a rush of air
pushed between teeth and clumsy tongue
in an array of sounds, syllables
and sweet, shy meaning—
but the words are malformed
the syntax garbled, jumbled
by some failure in the brain's synapses
or the poet's heart
cowering back in fear

There's probably something fundamentally wrong about writing depressive poetry when your birthday's barely over, but...


Tangle

Caught up in secretive smiles
musical chairs and the one missing beat
I stand, confused, lost in a possibility of
some great love
coming to save me from myself
and decisions always made too late or not at all

for the fear, the numbing terror
of never being enough or being just a little bit
too much

Did I wait too long?
The crossroads has passed by
leaving nothing but threads of unravelled,
feebly echoing dreams and the notion
such a silly notion
of a deeper meaning behind the anguish—

There is no more to life than this.

Happy birthday, Mir and Pubky!

Half-term break is over. I just came back to my flat about half an hour ago, and among other things, found a confession waiting for me. It would be confusing either way, but my current state of sleep deprivation makes it doubly more so. Aaah! Stress! And this is a person who I've just started becoming comfortable with and had been fairly sure likes me, but but but... muuuhh D: