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梦中冬眠的蛇

41岁风韵犹存花露水在线求死

金钱囤积86.

纯情冷酷大蜥蜴

交通工具与猴

小女巫赛高

凋谢的玫瑰猎人

光明刺客

幸运100杜三鹦

预言家陆妈

十字审判军方点

一代猎人岑不明

飓风蝴蝶阿曼德

黄企王国大王子乔治亚

忠诚padrino丹尼尔

愿主保佑菲比

痛恨男人的红桃

  

“这个冬天一定温暖且热闹”

“一起吃火锅吗”

“我回来了”

41岁风韵犹存花露水在线求死

金钱囤积86.

纯情冷酷大蜥蜴

交通工具与猴

小女巫赛高

凋谢的玫瑰猎人

光明刺客

幸运100杜三鹦

预言家陆妈

十字审判军方点

一代猎人岑不明

飓风蝴蝶阿曼德

黄企王国大王子乔治亚

忠诚padrino丹尼尔

愿主保佑菲比

痛恨男人的红桃

  

“这个冬天一定温暖且热闹”

“一起吃火锅吗”

“我回来了”

三琴_

《泰戈尔诗选》书摘

  1.我要从我心中驱走一切的丑恶,使我的爱开花,因为我知道你在我的心宫深处安设了座位。

  

      2.不在你的面前,我的心就不知道什么是安逸和休息,我的工作变成了无边的劳役海中的无尽的劳役。

  

  

  3.今天,炎暑来到我的窗前,轻嘘微语;群蜂在花树的宫廷中尽情弹唱。

  

  

  4.它也许配不上你的花冠,但请你采折它,以你手采折的痛苦来给它光宠。我怕在我警觉之先,日光已逝,供献的时间过了。

  

  

  5.旅客要在每一个生人门口敲叩,才能敲到自己的家门,人要在外面到处漂流,最后才能走到最深的...

  1.我要从我心中驱走一切的丑恶,使我的爱开花,因为我知道你在我的心宫深处安设了座位。

  

      2.不在你的面前,我的心就不知道什么是安逸和休息,我的工作变成了无边的劳役海中的无尽的劳役。

  

  

  3.今天,炎暑来到我的窗前,轻嘘微语;群蜂在花树的宫廷中尽情弹唱。

  

  

  4.它也许配不上你的花冠,但请你采折它,以你手采折的痛苦来给它光宠。我怕在我警觉之先,日光已逝,供献的时间过了。

  

  

  5.旅客要在每一个生人门口敲叩,才能敲到自己的家门,人要在外面到处漂流,最后才能走到最深的内殿。

  

  

吟烟二十九
  沈曦x夏九嘉   《明人不...

  沈曦x夏九嘉

  《明人不说暗恋》superpanda

  沈曦x夏九嘉

  《明人不说暗恋》superpanda

轩辕云初
尽管如此…… 尽管如此,就像被...

尽管如此……


尽管如此,就像被仇恨攫住的囚徒

但每个人仍希望通过自身的劳作获得解脱

这世界藏有一个奇迹,伟大的奇迹!

生命就是生存:这是我最基本的信念。

但谁又体验过它呢?万物驯顺地

呆在那里,像没有被弹奏碰触过的旋律

安眠在竖琴中。时光流逝。

谁体验过它?掠过水面的吹风?

互相摩挲致意的树枝?

还是编织芬芳的鲜花?

或是古老的、向前不断延伸的小巷?

难道它曾是信步的温顺的野兽,

或是飞鸟?那神秘的飞翔引得我们远眺。

究竟是谁体验过它?主呵,莫非是你?


——里尔克

尽管如此……


尽管如此,就像被仇恨攫住的囚徒

但每个人仍希望通过自身的劳作获得解脱

这世界藏有一个奇迹,伟大的奇迹!

生命就是生存:这是我最基本的信念。

但谁又体验过它呢?万物驯顺地

呆在那里,像没有被弹奏碰触过的旋律

安眠在竖琴中。时光流逝。

谁体验过它?掠过水面的吹风?

互相摩挲致意的树枝?

还是编织芬芳的鲜花?

或是古老的、向前不断延伸的小巷?

难道它曾是信步的温顺的野兽,

或是飞鸟?那神秘的飞翔引得我们远眺。

究竟是谁体验过它?主呵,莫非是你?



——里尔克

拿什么热爱

《南禅》

“他有的是法子喂我。”

“这世间千万人来往,我独信他一个人。”

“我修为方聚,正是贪食之时,谁敢抢我的鱼肉,我便加倍从谁身上要来。他们若是碰你一下,摸你一分,咬你一口,我便尽数嚼碎了吞下去,不论他是妖怪还是凡人。但你若去碰了别人,想要趁机逃身。净霖。我就将你拖回来,一寸一寸撕干净,丁点儿血也不会漏给别人尝。我们融为一体,就再也分不开了。”

“在下净霖。负咽泉而至,为除魔而来。”

“不是临松君。”“不是临松君,就只能是我的……我的了。”

“净霖俯下身,拉开手帕,一片月白的龙鳞依着佛珠躺在其中。他们将他的心爱剐鳞抽筋。他们将他的道义变作妄谈。”

“我是净霖。我有所爱隔山海……我是逆鳞…......

“他有的是法子喂我。”

“这世间千万人来往,我独信他一个人。”

“我修为方聚,正是贪食之时,谁敢抢我的鱼肉,我便加倍从谁身上要来。他们若是碰你一下,摸你一分,咬你一口,我便尽数嚼碎了吞下去,不论他是妖怪还是凡人。但你若去碰了别人,想要趁机逃身。净霖。我就将你拖回来,一寸一寸撕干净,丁点儿血也不会漏给别人尝。我们融为一体,就再也分不开了。”

“在下净霖。负咽泉而至,为除魔而来。”

“不是临松君。”“不是临松君,就只能是我的……我的了。”

“净霖俯下身,拉开手帕,一片月白的龙鳞依着佛珠躺在其中。他们将他的心爱剐鳞抽筋。他们将他的道义变作妄谈。”

“我是净霖。我有所爱隔山海……我是逆鳞……我叫净霖……鸣金台……槐树城……七星镇……我与他、他……他是谁?我要与他结成秦晋之好……七星镇里……鸣金台……来接我、接我……在鸣金台!我在鸣金台等你!等你……带我回家……谁、谁?我有所爱隔山海……我有……”

“净霖哑声抽噎,他突然凭力翻爬起来,在仓促中用指甲划着墙壁。指甲崩断。在墙壁上拖出长长的血痕。一条龙。哥哥。带我回家。”

“当他抵在墙壁时,甚至会记不清自己在念着谁。他愤怒地捶着墙面,在逼仄的石棺里失声咆哮。他想出去。他要去找一条龙。”

“我心有所爱。在云端,在瀚海,在心口。”

“净霖每时每刻都要在触手可及的地方画线,像是这般便能遏止疼痛,没人来的时候他便贴着墙面用指甲刻着痕迹,这些密密麻麻、深浅不一的线就是他的龙。”

“但是有一日,或许是有一夜,净霖醒来时陷入了漫长了寂静,他用了更长的时间来回忆,才在迷惘中想起一条龙。”

“龙息驻守着他的身躯。他属于一条龙,一条龙也属于他。”

“雨这样大,我竟像是在等一个人。”

“净霖。我的。净霖。是我的净霖啊。是我珍重如宝,揣在心窝里的净霖啊。”

“这把咽泉剑归我。这只恶苍龙归你。”

“入了我的地盘,便成了我的心肝儿。我把你扛进洞,点几根红烛,花被里再带你滚几圈,就是洞房花烛了。”  

时生

【摘抄】不轨之举——意大利文艺复兴时期的一位修女

  • 因为欧洲人长期以来都难以接受这样的事实,妇女之间竟然还具有吸引力。他们对人类性关系的看法是男性中心主义——妇女会被男人所吸引,男人也会被男人吸引,但是,一个妇女决不会对另一个妇女具有长时间的情欲。因此,在法律上,在医学上,以及在公众的观念中,妇女之间的性关系被忽略了。


  • 忽视女性同性恋的另一个原因,是有这样一种看法,天生就比男人低下的妇女只不过是在极力模仿男人。“一个女人让自己像男人那样追求情欲,都要比一个男人变得女人气为好,女人气使男人丧失勇气和尊严。相应的,一个模仿男人的女人就会由于比其他女人更勇敢无畏而获得好名声”。然而,这样的推论并没有宽囿妇女之间的性关系,它只是将其置于西方传...

  • 因为欧洲人长期以来都难以接受这样的事实,妇女之间竟然还具有吸引力。他们对人类性关系的看法是男性中心主义——妇女会被男人所吸引,男人也会被男人吸引,但是,一个妇女决不会对另一个妇女具有长时间的情欲。因此,在法律上,在医学上,以及在公众的观念中,妇女之间的性关系被忽略了。


  • 忽视女性同性恋的另一个原因,是有这样一种看法,天生就比男人低下的妇女只不过是在极力模仿男人。“一个女人让自己像男人那样追求情欲,都要比一个男人变得女人气为好,女人气使男人丧失勇气和尊严。相应的,一个模仿男人的女人就会由于比其他女人更勇敢无畏而获得好名声”。然而,这样的推论并没有宽囿妇女之间的性关系,它只是将其置于西方传统的漫长过程之中,在这一过程中,妇女像其他所有的生物一样,努力向一个更为完美的自然状态发展。问题的矛盾在于,这种关系非但没有推翻这种假设的生物学上的等级,反而更加肯定了这种等级,在这个等级中,“男人的身体优于妇女的身体犹如灵魂优于肉体”。


  • 沉默孕育出混乱,混乱则产生恐惧。


  • 此外,在16世纪中期,特兰特共会议·作为教会改革计划的一部分重申了教会古老的立场,妇女成为修女不能是强迫的,而只能是出于她们的自由意志。在16世纪,对什么是强迫具有与20世纪不同的解释;然而,我们仍然不得不感到疑惑,当一个年青姑娘面对父母和亲戚,同时,就像一般的情况那样,当女修道院世界就是她所知道的唯一的好地方时,她究竟还具有多少自由意志。因为大多数女孩在她们必须起各种誓言之前很早的幼年,就被带进了女修道院。她们对宗教生活的熟习,对外面陌生世界的恐惧,更不用说取消继承权的威胁,这些都很早就将女孩们任何公开反抗的意志磨蚀殆尽了。


Zwischen Immer und Nie

2

At the first gesture of morning, flies began stirring. Inman's eyes and the long wound at his neck drew them, and the sound of their wings and the touch of their feet were soon more potent than a yardful of roosters in rousing a man to wake. So he came to yet one more day in the hospital ward. He......

2

At the first gesture of morning, flies began stirring. Inman's eyes and the long wound at his neck drew them, and the sound of their wings and the touch of their feet were soon more potent than a yardful of roosters in rousing a man to wake. So he came to yet one more day in the hospital ward. He flapped the flies away with his hands and looked across the foot of his bed to an open triple-hung window. Ordinarily he could see to the red road and the oak tree and the low brick wall. And beyond them to a sweep of fields and flat piney woods that stretched to the western horizon. The view was a long one for the flatlands, the hospital having been built on the only swell within eyeshot. But it was too early yet for a vista. The window might as well have been painted grey. 


The window apparently wanted only to take his thoughts back. Which was fine with him, for he had seen the metal face of the age and had been so stunned by it that when he thought into the future, all he could vision was a world from which everything he counted important had been banished or had willingly fled.


By now he had stared at the window all through a late summer so hot and wet that the air both day and night felt like breathing through a dishrag, so damp it caused fresh sheets to sour under him and tiny black mushrooms to grow overnight from the limp pages of the book on his bedside table.


3

He tucked the long front pieces of hair behind his ears and put on his spectacles of smoked glass, which he wore even in the dim of morning, his eyes apparently too weak for the wannest form of light. 


When his two nearest companions pulled away his clothes and looked at his neck, they had said him a solemn farewell in expectation of his death. We'll meet again in a better world, they said. 


But mainly the wound had wanted to clean itself. Before it started scabbing, it spit out a number of things: a collar button and a piece of wool collar from the shirt he had been wearing when he was hit, a shard of soft grey metal as big as a quarter dollar piece, and, unaccountably, something that closely resembled a peach pit. That last he set on the nightstand and studied for some days. He could never settle his mind on whether it was a part of him or not. He finally threw it out the window but then had troubling dreams that it had taken root and grown, like Jack's bean, into something monstrous.


4

That summer, Inman had viewed the world as if it were a picture framed by the molding around the window. Long stretches of time often passed when, for all the change in the scene, it might as well have been an old painting of a road, a wall, a tree, a cart, a blind man. Inman had sometimes counted off slow numbers in his head to see how long it would be before anything of significance altered. It was a game and he had rules for it. A bird flying by did not count. Someone walking down the road did. Major weather changes did—the sun coining out, fresh rain—but shadows of passing clouds did not. Some days he'd get up in the thousands before there was any allowable alteration in the elements of the picture. He believed the scene would never leave his mind—wall, blind man, tree, cart, road—no matter how far on he lived. He imagined himself an old man thinking about it. Those pieces together seemed to offer some meaning, though he did not know what and suspected he never would.


Without pausing even for salutation Inman said, Who put out your pair of eyes? 

The blind man had a friendly smile on his face and he said, Nobody. I never had any.

That took Inman aback, for his imagination had worked in the belief that they had been plucked out in some desperate and bloody dispute, some brute fraction. Every vile deed he had witnessed lately had been at the hand of a human agent, so he had about forgot that there was a whole other order of misfortune. 

—Why did you never have any? Inman said. 

—Just happened that way. 

—Well, Inman said. You're mighty calm. Especially for a man that most would say has taken the little end of the horn all his life. 

The blind man said, It might have been worse had I ever been given a glimpse of the world and then lost it. 


7

One figure, whose wounds were so dreadful that he more resembled meat than man, tried to rise but could not. He flopped and then lay still but for the turning of his head. From the ground he craned his neck and looked at Inman with dead eyes and spoke Inman's name in a low voice. Every morning after that dream, Inman awoke in a mood as dark as the blackest crow that ever flew.


8

Continued yet ascending until I gained the top of an elevated rocky ridge, when appeared before me a gap or opening between other yet more lofty ascents, through which continued as the rough rocky road led me, close by the winding banks of a large rapid brook, which at length turning to the left, pouring down rocky precipices, glided off through dark groves and high forests, conveying streams of fertility and pleasure to the fields below.


Such images made Inman happy, as did the following pages wherein Bartram, ecstatic, journeyed on to the Vale of Cowee deep in the mountains, breathlessly describing a world of scarp and crag, ridge after ridge fading off blue into the distance, chanting at length as he went the names of all the plants that came under his gaze as if reciting the ingredients of a powerful potion. After a time, though, Inman found that he had left the book and was simply forming the topography of home in his head. Cold Mountain, all its ridges and coves and watercourses. Pigeon River, Little East Fork, Sorrell Cove, Deep Gap, Fire Scald Ridge. He knew their names and said them to himself like the words of spells and incantations to ward off the things one fears most.


9

He expected solitude and self-reliance. But when he got to the bald there was a regular party going on... Inman joined the men, and for several days they cooked enormous meals of fried corn bread and trout and stews of game animals over a large fire that they kept burning knee high day and night. They washed the food down with every manner of corn liquor and apple brandy and thick mead so that many in the group laid up drunk from one dawn to the next. 


It was a contest with no fixed time of play and few rules so that they just ran about slamming into each other and hacking with the racquets as if with clubs until one team reached a set number of points scored by striking the goalposts with the ball.


There in the highlands, clear weather held for much of the time. The air lacked its usual haze, and the view stretched on and on across rows of blue mountains, each paler than the last until the final ranks were indistinguishable from sky.


10

Mornings on the high bald were crisp, with fog lying in the valleys so that the peaks rose from it disconnected like steep blue islands scattered across a pale sea.


Swimmer would talk seamlessly in a low voice so that it merged with the sound of the water. 


His spells portrayed the spirit as a frail thing, constantly under attack and in need of strength, always threatening to die inside you. 


Inman sat through the tales and spells, watching the rill in the water where current fell against his dipped line, Swimmer's voice a rush of sound, soothing as creek noise. 


Inman himself had lost an entire cow, a fact he could not figure how to explain to his father. 


Nevertheless the beautiful and familiar tune was impervious to poor performance, and Inman thought how painfully young it sounded, as if the pattern of its notes allowed no room to imagine a future clouded and tangled and diminished.


11

It was simple enough to tell fortunes if a man dedicated himself to the idea that the future will inevitably be worse than the past and that time is a path leading nowhere but a place of deep and persistent threat.


As Inman sat brooding and pining for his lost self, one of Swimmer's creekside stories rushed into his memory with a great urgency and attractiveness. 


—There's more to it than just the climbing, Swimmer had said. Though Inman could not recall whether Swimmer had told him what else might be involved in reaching that healing realm, Cold Mountain nevertheless soared in his mind as a place where all his scattered forces might gather. Inman did not consider himself to be a superstitious person, but he did believe that there is a world invisible to us. He no longer thought of that world as heaven, nor did he still think that we get to go there when we die. Those teachings had been burned away. But he could not abide by a universe composed only of what he could see, especially when it was so frequently foul. So he held to the idea of another world, a better place, and he figured be might as well consider Cold Mountain to be the location of it as anywhere. 


12

The doctors now claimed he was healing quickly, but he still felt he could poke a stick in there and push it out the other side with no more resistance offered than might a rotted pumpkin. It still hurt to talk and to eat and, sometimes, to breathe. Troubling as well were the deep pains on humid days from the hip wound he had taken at Malvern Hill years ago.


He sat at the window and watched the close of day. Sunset was troubling. Low grey clouds massed at the flat horizon, but as the sun fell to earthline it found an opening in the clouds and shot a beam of light the color of hot hickory coals straight upward. The light was tubular and hard-edged as the barrel of a rifle and stood reared up into the sky for a full five minutes before winking out abruptly.


13

She looked off across the yard to the kitchen garden where the beans and squash and tomatoes bore vegetables hardly bigger than her thumb despite the fullness of the growing season.


Standing thick in the rows and towering over the vegetables were weeds that Ada could not name and had neither the energy nor the heart to fight. 


秋晚

穿成万人迷的炮灰竹马(语录)

  *“你来到我身边,就是独一无二的,世俗任何的标签都不能掩盖的那种独一无二,家世、外貌、过往,都不能。你只是你,宋喻。”

  


  *带着希望和光,来到我十五岁的彼得潘。

  


  *月光淌过他清冷的五官。唇角的弧度轻缓,笑意也有了一些真实。谢绥说:“她们传的都是假象。你要是想要了解我,不用去高山攀折,我自己会到你身边来。”


  

  *谢绥垂眸,漆黑的眼里似带笑意,如沉星河。清冷的声线放低,有种融于夜色的温柔。“你没追我,是我追你。”


  

  *【你老公喻哥:?】


  【谢绥:想亲你】


  【谢绥:或者说,喜欢你】

 

  【谢绥:这是本能...

  *“你来到我身边,就是独一无二的,世俗任何的标签都不能掩盖的那种独一无二,家世、外貌、过往,都不能。你只是你,宋喻。”

  


  *带着希望和光,来到我十五岁的彼得潘。

  


  *月光淌过他清冷的五官。唇角的弧度轻缓,笑意也有了一些真实。谢绥说:“她们传的都是假象。你要是想要了解我,不用去高山攀折,我自己会到你身边来。”


  

  *谢绥垂眸,漆黑的眼里似带笑意,如沉星河。清冷的声线放低,有种融于夜色的温柔。“你没追我,是我追你。”


  

  *【你老公喻哥:?】


  【谢绥:想亲你】


  【谢绥:或者说,喜欢你】

 

  【谢绥:这是本能。】

  

  咚。宋喻一下子摘下了耳机,豁然偏过头,眼睛瞪大,吓得已经把所有情绪都忘了。


  

  *自从遇见你,满天繁星黯然失色,自从吻过你,岁月漫长有了盼头。


  * 谢绥偏头,看着宋喻的侧脸。

  

  少年正仰头,侧脸如雪一般洁白精致。

  

  他微微笑着,想着,天亮了呀喻喻。

  

  星火成片,燎烧尽荒芜冰冷的冻土,从此深渊里天光万顷。


  *这个立方体像一块玻璃,蛛丝布满,顷刻粉碎。


  而后轰然倒地。浩浩荡荡像一个文明的落幕。

  

  黑色的空间剧烈燃起了白色的炙焰。

  

  虚妄荒诞的精神世界。

  

  宋喻站直着身体,看着踏着火光而来,熟悉的身影。

  

  星火成片,燎烧尽荒芜冰冷的冻土。

  

  这一次,是你救我出黑暗。




  * 同样是坐在最后一排,舞台上的男人举止优雅,西装挺拔。


  隔着灯光,隔着岁月,就像当初景城礼堂,他跟自己说。


  前途似海,来日方长。


  宋喻别过头,自己笑出声。


  岁月漫长,然而星光璀璨,一切都有盼头

  

  


轩辕云初
啊,朋友们,这并不是新鲜……...

啊,朋友们,这并不是新鲜……


啊,朋友们,这并不是新鲜

机械排挤掉我们的手腕。

你们不要让过度迷惑,

赞美“新”的人,不久便沉默。


因为全宇宙比一根电缆、

一座高楼,更是新颖无限。

看哪,星辰都是一团旧火,

但是更新的火却在消没。


不要相信,那最长的传递线

已经转动着来日的轮旋。

因为永劫同着永劫交谈。


真正发生的,多于我们的经验。

将来会捉取最辽远的事体

和我们内心的严肃溶在一起。


——里尔克

啊,朋友们,这并不是新鲜……


啊,朋友们,这并不是新鲜

机械排挤掉我们的手腕。

你们不要让过度迷惑,

赞美“新”的人,不久便沉默。


因为全宇宙比一根电缆、

一座高楼,更是新颖无限。

看哪,星辰都是一团旧火,

但是更新的火却在消没。


不要相信,那最长的传递线

已经转动着来日的轮旋。

因为永劫同着永劫交谈。


真正发生的,多于我们的经验。

将来会捉取最辽远的事体

和我们内心的严肃溶在一起。



——里尔克

一川烟霞
说话说到有人厌恶,比起毫无动静...

说话说到有人厌恶,比起毫无动静来,还是一种幸福。天下不舒服的人们多着,而有些人们却一心一意在造专给自己舒服的世界。这是不能如此便宜的,也给他们放一点可恶的东西在眼前,使他有时小不舒服,知道原来自己的世界也不容易十分美满。苍蝇的飞鸣,是不知道人们在憎恶他的;我却明知道,然而只要能飞鸣就偏要飞鸣。

  

——《坟》鲁迅

  

  画作《悲剧》毕加索

  

说话说到有人厌恶,比起毫无动静来,还是一种幸福。天下不舒服的人们多着,而有些人们却一心一意在造专给自己舒服的世界。这是不能如此便宜的,也给他们放一点可恶的东西在眼前,使他有时小不舒服,知道原来自己的世界也不容易十分美满。苍蝇的飞鸣,是不知道人们在憎恶他的;我却明知道,然而只要能飞鸣就偏要飞鸣。

  

——《坟》鲁迅

  

  画作《悲剧》毕加索

  

浅黛々

跌落暮色

路漫漫其修远兮,吾将上下而求索


我哥是夜幕降临时天上最澄澈的暮色

让我沉溺其中

寻常且炙热

可有人不喜欢黑天

他们架起火把

企图将那缀满星辰的夜空焚毁

我宁愿错过他们眼中的明亮世界

在暮色中跌落


偶然飞过一只流萤

我便以为是整个星空

偶然弹奏一个音符

我便以为是整首赞歌

可能也会因为不经意的一片雪花

我将永困于寒冬


心里好像有什么东西一点点碎掉

啊——是希望


我想把自己一片片撕碎

埋进人迹罕至的深山老林里

来逃掉被吃的只剩一地血腥腐臭残骸的命运


他的眼睛缀满星辰

看向我时仍然寻常炙热

可他的弟弟已经成了一摊烂泥


我的心理防线......

路漫漫其修远兮,吾将上下而求索


我哥是夜幕降临时天上最澄澈的暮色

让我沉溺其中

寻常且炙热

可有人不喜欢黑天

他们架起火把

企图将那缀满星辰的夜空焚毁

我宁愿错过他们眼中的明亮世界

在暮色中跌落


偶然飞过一只流萤

我便以为是整个星空

偶然弹奏一个音符

我便以为是整首赞歌

可能也会因为不经意的一片雪花

我将永困于寒冬


心里好像有什么东西一点点碎掉

啊——是希望


我想把自己一片片撕碎

埋进人迹罕至的深山老林里

来逃掉被吃的只剩一地血腥腐臭残骸的命运


他的眼睛缀满星辰

看向我时仍然寻常炙热

可他的弟弟已经成了一摊烂泥


我的心理防线被彻底打破了

我屈服了

向着血淋淋的现实屈服了

那一个我沦为任人宰割的鱼肉

像是朝菌到了廿尾

蟪蛄到了秋季

必须要死去


最后一缕残阳落下时

恰好听见了鸿雁的悲鸣


原来真正的暴风雨来临的时候

所有人都得死

生活不会放过任何一个人的


善有善报,恶有恶报

那我哥的善报在哪里

我就是我哥的善报

我要过去陪他


不仅要忘了我

也要忘了我哥

这个世界所有的人都不应该记得我们

这个手机不配我们留下痕迹



我从十七楼跳了下去,跌进了我哥的怀抱里





作者有话说:真的,我单知道有的人不是人,不知道有的东西这么不是东西!宋弥章,我打你的名字都觉得脏了键盘,去死吧!!!

北方以北

房舍四周,沉默于树下

坐着硕大的身影

他们并没阻挡道路

你可以穿其而行

只有一点微微的凉意

但他们总在那里

在湿漉漉的天气中更容易看见

在大海变得灰白

在存在过的事物朝窗口

上升的时候。


——索尔维格·冯·绍尔茨《十一月的大海》

房舍四周,沉默于树下

坐着硕大的身影

他们并没阻挡道路

你可以穿其而行

只有一点微微的凉意

但他们总在那里

在湿漉漉的天气中更容易看见

在大海变得灰白

在存在过的事物朝窗口

上升的时候。


——索尔维格·冯·绍尔茨《十一月的大海》

轩辕云初
Pieta① 耶稣,我又看见你...

Pieta①


耶稣,我又看见你的双足,

当年一个青年的双足,

我战兢兢脱下鞋来洗濯;

它们在我的头发里迷惑,

像荆棘丛中一只白色的野兽。


我看见你从未爱过的肢体

头一次在这爱情的夜里。

我们从来还不曾躺在一起,

现在只是被人惊奇,监视。


可是看啊,你的手都已撕裂:——

爱人,不是我咬的,不是我。

你心房洞开,人们能够走入:

这本应该只是我的入口。


现在你疲倦了,你疲倦的嘴

无意于吻我苦痛的嘴。——

啊,耶稣,何曾有过我们的时辰?

我二人放射着异彩沉沦。


①在西方雕刻绘画中表现耶稣死后他的母亲玛丽亚对耶稣悲痛的情景,叫作pietà...

Pieta①


耶稣,我又看见你的双足,

当年一个青年的双足,

我战兢兢脱下鞋来洗濯;

它们在我的头发里迷惑,

像荆棘丛中一只白色的野兽。


我看见你从未爱过的肢体

头一次在这爱情的夜里。

我们从来还不曾躺在一起,

现在只是被人惊奇,监视。


可是看啊,你的手都已撕裂:——

爱人,不是我咬的,不是我。

你心房洞开,人们能够走入:

这本应该只是我的入口。


现在你疲倦了,你疲倦的嘴

无意于吻我苦痛的嘴。——

啊,耶稣,何曾有过我们的时辰?

我二人放射着异彩沉沦。


①在西方雕刻绘画中表现耶稣死后他的母亲玛丽亚对耶稣悲痛的情景,叫作pietà。(pietà是意大利语,有悲悯、虔诚的涵义。)这类的作品有时除玛丽亚和已死的耶稣外,还有其他的人,其中最常见的是玛丽亚·马格达雷娜(中文《新约》译为“抹大拉的玛丽亚”)。这首诗写的是玛丽亚·马格达雷娜对耶稣的热爱。



——里尔克

浮书.

「人人身上都潜伏着鼠疫,因为,没有人,是的,世界上没有任何人能免受其害。」


「我也知道,必须自我检点,毫不懈怠,否则,稍不留神,就可能往别人脸上呼气,把鼠疫传给人家。只有细菌是天然形成的。」


「当鼠疫患者是非常累人的,但想要不当鼠疫患者更累人。」


——阿尔贝·加缪《鼠疫》


很清醒,很痛苦,而因痛苦而有力的一段话。加缪使我看到,这世上可能没有意义,没有正确,然而从善而流地怀揣着死亡,真正良善而勇敢地活。

「人人身上都潜伏着鼠疫,因为,没有人,是的,世界上没有任何人能免受其害。」


「我也知道,必须自我检点,毫不懈怠,否则,稍不留神,就可能往别人脸上呼气,把鼠疫传给人家。只有细菌是天然形成的。」


「当鼠疫患者是非常累人的,但想要不当鼠疫患者更累人。」


——阿尔贝·加缪《鼠疫》


很清醒,很痛苦,而因痛苦而有力的一段话。加缪使我看到,这世上可能没有意义,没有正确,然而从善而流地怀揣着死亡,真正良善而勇敢地活。

轩辕云初
豹 ——在巴黎植物园 它的目光...

——在巴黎植物园


它的目光被那走不完的铁栏

缠得这般疲倦,什么也不能收留。

它好像只有千条的铁栏杆,

千条的铁栏后便没有宇宙。


强韧的脚步迈着柔软的步容,

步容在这极小的圈中旋转,

仿佛力之舞围绕着一个中心,

在中心一个伟大的意志昏眩。


只有时眼帘无声地擦起。——

于是有一幅图像浸入,

通过四肢紧张的静寂——

在心中化为乌有。


——里尔克

——在巴黎植物园


它的目光被那走不完的铁栏

缠得这般疲倦,什么也不能收留。

它好像只有千条的铁栏杆,

千条的铁栏后便没有宇宙。


强韧的脚步迈着柔软的步容,

步容在这极小的圈中旋转,

仿佛力之舞围绕着一个中心,

在中心一个伟大的意志昏眩。


只有时眼帘无声地擦起。——

于是有一幅图像浸入,

通过四肢紧张的静寂——

在心中化为乌有。



——里尔克

云也漂流

我为你买阵雨,你给我买一场雪

今晚——明天的最新前情提要——星光熠熠,而我无心征服。来跟我一起错过那艘船吧,来跟我一起玩些猜谜游戏。我们将大声念出北极光那难以辨认的电绿色手迹;我们将推测哪一颗星会在一万年后变成超新星。然后我们将聆听一段《恢复正常》,我会押他左手的大拇指,你也随便选一根。用从彼此那里赢来的疯狂货币,我为你买阵雨,你给我买一场雪,我们一起向着阳光,向着绿地,向着三叶草,还有美味的多刺蓟。

——(美)艾米·里奇(Amy Leach)著;徐楠译《世间万物:与植物、星辰、动物的相遇》

今晚——明天的最新前情提要——星光熠熠,而我无心征服。来跟我一起错过那艘船吧,来跟我一起玩些猜谜游戏。我们将大声念出北极光那难以辨认的电绿色手迹;我们将推测哪一颗星会在一万年后变成超新星。然后我们将聆听一段《恢复正常》,我会押他左手的大拇指,你也随便选一根。用从彼此那里赢来的疯狂货币,我为你买阵雨,你给我买一场雪,我们一起向着阳光,向着绿地,向着三叶草,还有美味的多刺蓟。

——(美)艾米·里奇(Amy Leach)著;徐楠译《世间万物:与植物、星辰、动物的相遇》

祁非

限定暧昧03

  此时此刻,他的心底仿佛有一层潮湿的土壤,有苗芽即将破土疯长。

  

  

  

  一环接着一环,一步接着一步,逐渐走到了今天。每一个人都是无辜的,每一个人也都是推手

  

  

  

  每个人的出发点与欲望,都是一根线,最后编织成一张遮天蔽日的大网

  

  

  

  他迷茫却又坚定,在刚刚二十出头的年纪里,隐约窥见了自己的前路,并决定要大步往前。

  

  

  

  一边想缩地成寸,一边又贪求这条路无限延长。

  

  

  

  承诺太轻太虚浮,他不该在这种时候说这样的话。

  

  

  

  

  他消耗着所有生命力,沉溺在...

  此时此刻,他的心底仿佛有一层潮湿的土壤,有苗芽即将破土疯长。

  

  

  

  一环接着一环,一步接着一步,逐渐走到了今天。每一个人都是无辜的,每一个人也都是推手

  

  

  

  每个人的出发点与欲望,都是一根线,最后编织成一张遮天蔽日的大网

  

  

  

  他迷茫却又坚定,在刚刚二十出头的年纪里,隐约窥见了自己的前路,并决定要大步往前。

  

  

  

  一边想缩地成寸,一边又贪求这条路无限延长。

  

  

  

  承诺太轻太虚浮,他不该在这种时候说这样的话。

  

  

  

  

  他消耗着所有生命力,沉溺在一个半是虚假半是真实的世界里。

  仿佛那个人没有离开,仿佛一切都和从前一样。

  只要他不深想,不探究,就绝不会打破这微妙的平衡。

  

  

  

  

  陆封寒声音很轻,怕惊扰了什么。

  “人类这个不算强大、甚至脆弱的种族,为什么能从远古蒙昧走到地球时代,再走到星历纪元?”

  岩洞之外,是陌生却充满生机的行星。

  行星之外,是浩渺无垠的宇宙。

  人类之于宇宙,甚至不如一粟之于沧海。

  陆封寒的影子斜斜映在地面。

  他仿佛只是在自问自答。

  “是希望。”

  

  

  

  星舰背身而去的瞬间,他心里被生生剜去的地方,就空着,再无法填补。

  他于意识虚假与真实之间,再无一个人,愿意做他的锚点。

  像是从浓绿葱翠的夏季,刹那到了无比漫长的凛冬,即使缩在床上,雪水也会漫上来,凝成一种浸骨的寒冷。

  

  

  

  像旷远绚丽的星云中,亘古的恒星刺破重重尘埃,遥遥将他的双眼照亮。

  

  

  

  在他不知道什么是爱,不确定自己会不会爱上一个人之前,他就已经爱上了他。

  

  

  

  

  他就像一头被困在牢笼中的猛兽,耐下本性,固执地等着虚无缥缈的一线希望。

  

  

  

  

  外面的世界一刻不停地在旋转,无数的事情在发生。

  只有他,被困在一颗行星上,生命仿佛被定格。

  

  

  

  他不怎么相信世界上有鬼魂。

  然,先人遗愿,魂归故里,他当达成。

  

  

  

  对未来而言,过去的已无法更改,朝前看才是正确。

  

  

  

  谁都有隐衷,都有原有因,他没有那么多精力去理解和共情。

  因为在某些问题上,对就是对,错就是错。

  错了就该承担后果。

  

  

  

  死去的人再无法复活,他们活着的人能做的,不过是给一个完整的交代。

  

  

  

  犹如他赤着脚,独自站在雪地荒原上,随着这个人步步走近,他的周围冰雪消融,万物逢春。

  

  

  

  

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