The Taste For Nothingness
Dull soul, to whom the battle was once sweet,
Hope, who had spurred your ardour and your fame
Will no more ride you! Lie down without shame
Old horse, who makes his way on stumbling feet.

Give up, my heart, and sleep your stolid sleep.

For you old rover, spirit sadly spent,
Love is no longer fair, nor is dispute;
Farewell to brass alarms, sighs of the flute!
Pleasures, give up a heart grown impotent!

The Spring once wonderful has lost its scent!

And Time engulfs me in its steady tide,
As blizzards cover corpses with their snow;
And poised on high I watch the world below,
No longer looking for a place to hide.

Avalanche, sweep me off within your slide!

-Baudelaire

I can feel Autumn stalking my shadow, the shafts of memory prod my heart to tremble. I am low of painting materials right now, and low on funds.

Do flowers bloom from spilled blood? A poignant question.

Is it folly to want?

I hope to hope.

Listen close, Longing can be heard growing.