This is our last dance. This is ourselves.

Wednesday, 30 June 2010

There's a ton of the twist but we're fresh out of shout

The end of this poem brings tears to my eyes.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."

Robert Frost, Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.

Feeling achy and confused and tired and "discombobulated."


  1. You'll get through the woods soon, and never forget you have a big fucking axe!

  2. erm... that's what she said?