..and i can't remember love before her name

Departure
by Sylvia Plath

The figs on the fig tree in the yard are green;
Green, also, the grapes on the green vine
Shading the brickred porch tiles.
The money's run out.

How nature, sensing this, compounds her bitters.
Ungifted, ungrieved, our leavetaking.
The sun shines on unripe corn.
Cats play in the stalks.

Retrospect shall not often such penury-
Sun's brass, the moon's steely patinas,
The leaden slag of the world-
But always expose

The scraggy rock spit shielding the town's blue bay
Against which the brunt of outer sea
Beats, is brutal endlessly.
Gull-fouled, a stone hut

Bares its low lintel to corroding weathers:
Across the jut of ochreous rock
Goats shamble, morose, rank-haired,
To lick the sea-salt.

i don't think i want to use diaryland anymore.. i'll be using livejournal from now, i suppose. thing is that i'm too in love with my current layout to delete all this shit so i might update every now and then just for old times sake. ;) we'll see!

Jennifer.
(Jenny, Jenna, Jenn whatever you prefer)
16 yrs old.
Stockholm, Sweden.
Ironical. Witty. Sarcastic. Satirical. Suspicious. Paranoid. Nervous. Dry.

Weekends. Sleeping. Poetry. Writing. Rp. Creativity. Friends (there are exceptions). Sylvia Plath. Timmy. Coke. Ice cream. Reading. Movies. Text messages etc.

Labels. Categorizing. Reality. School. Report cards. Sports (most of em). People. Life in general. Daytime tv. Politics in America to some extent. "Have you been smoking?" etc