what stars are made of

on sunday, we watch the sun go down in the silence of this little lost town tuesday when you first call me sweetheart to bougainvillea and bits of my heart. your smile meets your eyes, you laugh at a joke appear out of nowhere, disappear into smoke and you leave me blushing every time you depart to bougainvillea and bits of my heart. on thursday morning, you ask me to be yours over pancakes and bedsheets and emptied drawers to kissed beginnings, this state of art and bougainvillea and the beat of my heart. here are flowers and fires and rooms painted blue you're falling in love, should i jump in, too? all i have is paper flowers and your plastic art and bougainvillea and bits of my heart. we run into clouds and kiss in the rain you bring me the sunshine, take away the pain i try and i try but the strings come apart to bougainvillea and bits of my heart. it is friday when you leave me where i don't want to be, lock away your doors, and you take away yo...

There is so much feeling involved in feeling like nothing at all I breathe, I strain to be I felt it once, seven years ago, Staring at the ceiling from the upper bunk-- Close enough to touch it, only just It doesn't matter. You sleep and you eat, And you slowly begin to understand why Everyone around you is just as numb But me, not me-- I am full of life and alive And I am everything in a world that is not And when I break, the shards of glasses will be stained A little bit of rose here, the sky there And the sun never stops shining yellow And it will cut you, pierce into your skin smoothly The way I used to touch it But you will bleed and when you bleed That's when You'll finally think of me. And I want to say I'm trapped, I remember the doors shutting But it feels more like I dug myself into this hole In this nothingness, this thin forgettable light And I don't see things the way I used to see them, You'll say I'm better off but ...

you will take her down with you one day. today, she thinks she's alright, she thinks she's happy, she thinks she has power, she thinks she has free will. and that's what she's going to think tomorrow too. that's what you want her to think. tomorrow, she will feel something she has never felt before. tomorrow, she will ride a high that she will never want to come down from. tomorrow, she will breathe you in and grin, dizzy. and i will brush a stray hair from her eyes. and she will look at me, dazed and confused, still smiling– and ask me who i am, and why i am important. i'll tell her i'm not. the day after, she'll chase that high again. and the day after that. and the day after that. because it's magical, isn't it?– that feeling of knowing everything, being everything. she tells me she can leave whenever she wants to– she just chooses not to. she's in control, or so she always thinks. and the stray hair– it's all over her face, and...

The Night Circus – you can keep wanting to go back to a dark place. The Way of the Peaceful Warrior–  to live in the present. Enid Blyton Biography - people are difficult to understand, you can have everything and still be unhappy. St Clare's Series – don't put others down, look for a balance. Mr Galliano's Circus Series – Enid Blyton doesn't only write about the privileged. Circuses are amazing and I'd like to live in one. Childhood is happy. My Heart and Other Black Holes – people don't come back once they're gone. Pompeii – Pompeii wasn't as interesting as the song. Lots of shit everywhere. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer – Tom Sawyer is a dramatic, sly little thing, and I aspire to be like him. I'm glad he's frozen into childhood forever. We Were Liars – great sad vibe, humans are fucked up. It always feels like something big is about to happen. Sacred Journey of the Peaceful Warrior – happiness is on the inside. A Thousand ...

on rainy days like this, my heart feels full of everything and nothing at all and it almost bleeds but it cries instead and i stumble when i stand so i fall. and when you come, it's in a rush like the wind and i never see it, don't see what you're going to mean to me you're invisible, i'm still on the cold ground i'm a flightless bird flapping my wings against the wind until i'm nothing at all, until i'm still and unmoving. and my skies slowly turn from grey to blue i never saw you coming, never thought i'd love you. and i'm in the midst of a battle the sun sinks low i'm watching as you fight watching as my armour falls watching as a fire rises from nothing at all. i tell myself in whispers at midnight that you're not a mistake it's not hard to believe it when everything's so vivid and bright we're golden– no sorrows, no ache. and when you leave, you leave your scarf and coat behind and the...

darling nobody, death has always been my biggest fear- and i don’t think that will ever change. when i was six, i would try to imagine what it would be like to be dead- to cease to exist. i would lie in bed, and try to imagine what it would feel like to not feel anything. like floating. it terrified me. dia de los muertos or the day of the dead is a mexican tradition that grows on me quite easily. my incurable fear of death does not stop me from admiring those who accept it- and even welcome it with open arms. mexicans are unusually positive about death, and everything to do with it. as my host mother tells me, “it’s the only thing that you know is going to happen for sure.” it scares me more than i will ever admit. it was the mayans who had a traditional ball game that they played for two weeks. there was a little twist, though: the team that won the game would have the honour of being beheaded, and sacrificed to the gods above.   dia de los muertos too, wa...

As a child, I grew up reading books by Enid Blyton- she was the reason I started reading in the first place. At a younger age, I looked at her books as stories packed with action and interesting people: full of children like me but with more thrilling lives. Her books struck me as intense, adventurous- but they were never repetitive. As I grew older, though, with my energy focused on different things, her books became the opposite of what they used to be: they became synonymous with peace, relaxation. They were an escape, all the same- just from different things this time. And now, they were more important. It seems strange, though, to read so many books written by a single person, to explore every corner of their mind- without actually knowing anything concrete about the person themselves. It was only in 2018 that I got curious about the life of my favourite author and began to read about her, starting with a biography by Barbara Stoney, with a foreword from Enid’s daughter, G...