I love...
Writing, hot chocolate, walking in the rain, thunderstorms, falling in love, intensity, snakes, laughing till I can't breathe, turning up the volume, watching chick flicks and eating icecream straight from the tub, Ben&Jerry's, Cheese, Jalapenos, Guitar music, mates, Vodka and Coke, Cigarettes, Sexy lingerie, Stilletoes, Passionate kisses, Collars and Chains, Scary rides, Wales, Horse Riding, Taking the train, London, Foreign places, Trashy paperbacks, the smell of the old pages of the books I read as a kid, pornography, photographs, crystals, curling up on the sofa next to someone I love and watching crappy TV, Boxing, Daydreaming, Cherries, the blue sugar I used to buy in paper bags from the corner shop, paradoxes, gettin good marks on the assignment I didn't bother to read for, getting better marks on the assignment I did read for, witty banter, making up words, not acting my age, credit cards, painting my nails more than one colour, thumb rings, tattoos, peircings, cheap clothes, the colour pink, Black Cats, My Gizmo Hedgehog Special, My world - my beautiful girls
I hate...
Officious Receptionists, Being Skint, Hangovers, Banks, Buttons, Spiders, Panic Attacks, Big Brother, Politicians, Small Heath, Arguments that last longer than a day, grudges, green, being wrong, shallow people, ignorance, sitting next to nutters on the bus, religion, breaking up, going red, rolling my own, Periods, catching colds, humid heat, internet fakers, how long it takes to do my hair, poems over a page long, Political Correctness, Indian Call Centres, Beaurocracy
She was a Phantom of delightWhen first she gleam'd upon my sight;A lovely apparition, sentTo be a moment's ornament;Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;But all things else about her drawnFrom May-time and the cheerful Dawn;A dancing Shape, an Image gay,To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.I saw her upon a nearer view,A spirit, yet a Woman tooHer household motions light and free,And steps of virgin liberty; A countenance in which did meetSweet records, promises as sweet;A Creature not too bright or goodFor human nature's daily food;For transient sorrows, simple wiles,Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.And now I see with eye sereneThe very pulse of the machine,A being breathing thoughtful breath,A traveller betwixt life and death;The reason firm, the temperate will,Endurance, forsight, strength and skill;A perfect Woman, nobly planned,To warn, to comfort, and command;And yet a Spirit still, and brightWith something of angelic light.
William Wordsworth 1807
O Rose thou art sick
The invisible worm
That flies in the night
In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy
William Blake, 1794
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