Frantic Beauty
You feel it in the fingertips of the heart. Blind. Reaching out through the central nervous system. Carving into you like clay, working through you like putty. For a moment it rests behind the eyes, and you stop, paralyzed. Because before you know what it is, you see it in its entirety. And its too much. The world is too rigid and time is too steady and it will never fit, there's no place. Its hopeless and you haven't even begun. Oceans of peach pits…
ContinueAdded by Derek DiMartini on October 26, 2016 at 12:30am — No Comments
(Disclaimer: while seemingly unrelated to leimay's rehearsal process, I felt this post belonged here, next to all the others)
There’s something so
tragically selfish
about writing—
To be kept away from the
distractions
of day to day,
Content with the isolation
needed to draw out what
lies beneath.
How arrogant
of one to think that
solitude could lead to
greatness! That the things…
ContinueAdded by Derek DiMartini on January 18, 2016 at 5:00am — No Comments
This fits. This feels right.
Is it the shape of things that determine what fits, or do we shape things to make them fit? When shaping ones own body there are always limits. The mannequin in the window will always wear it better. Creativity is bound within the walls of your figure. My shapes are often made to not fit everyone. They fit me and only me and even then they sometimes escape my control. And yet I can be fitted to. But only if I let you. No, only if I fit…
Added by Derek DiMartini on May 6, 2015 at 8:00pm — No Comments
ContinueBorders are a symbol of consciousness. Of our attempts to understand. To draw a border is to define something, by clearly delineating it from what its not.…
Added by Derek DiMartini on March 5, 2015 at 12:00am — No Comments
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