some old, some new; consoled by the view.

peace.
-lise.

passerby.

whilst walking I chance upon a passerby
and within each eye I see a story;
deep folds of tragedies and comedies.
I walk pass, and they walk by

and I bid adieu to all those lines I never read.
but I know they’re there, they always are.
just in a different language, or order, or rhyme.
but I always wonder: can they see mine?

peace.
-lise.

meta morphin'.

We change every day. Usually the changes are so small and so gradual that they escape our notice. But they still happen. Despite this, though, I have always felt as though there is something intangible in us that remains fixed; unchangeable. And no matter how much we evolve and grow... we are essentially the same. What is this stationary quality in each of us?

peace.
-lise.

w/e.

Yo Stephanie Meyer, I'm really happy for you and I'mma let you finish, BUT HARRY POTTER IS THE BEST CONTEMPORARY MAGIC-BASED BOOK SERIES OF ALL TIME.

(from here.)




peace.
-lise.

the skin within.

our skins collect memories like shelves collect dust
each layer, a story; each layer, more rust.

new chapters are plastered by the laminate masters
they deftly craft you, a breathing chef-d'oeuvre.
marbled with moments of love and of beauty,
painted with pictures of doubt and suspense.
speckled with scriptures and spider-webbed lies,
whiskered with seconds of hellos and goodbyes.
our lives are all written, too often we find,
with verses and stanzas of the most sesquipedalian kind.
the layers continue, each concealing the last;
though we cannot erase the present or past.
but if we could wipe it all clean, no more dirt or debris;
then what could be seen, and who would we be?

peace.
-lise.