Kelsey Jo Attree
18
Barnsley
Heya :)
The names Kels.
I can usually be found drinking a pint, raiding a sale, bingeing with Beavon, dancing the night away, flunking at college or sleeping lol
The best way to describe me is as a magnified mirror: If you're nice to me, I'm nice to you times 10, if you're a bitch to me, i'll show you how its really done lol.
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary.
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.
The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God,
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility.
Fumey, spiritous mists inhabit this place
Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.
The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete dispair. I live here.
Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky -
Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection.
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.
The yew tree points up. It has a Gothic shape.
The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.
Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.
How I would like to believe in tenderness -
The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,
Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.
I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars.
Inside the church, the saints will be all blue,
Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,
Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.
The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.
And the message of the yew tree is blackness -
Blackness and silence.
Toni Beavon; this girl is like a sister to me, i love her to bits. shes the greatest best mate i could ask for. she makes me laugh more than anyone else, and i've had some of the best times with her. i honestly dont know where i'd be, or what i would have done without her. so to round it up, shes abit mint lol
