Fringe

Screenshot via fandomania.com

WALTER: The substance from Pennsylvania seems to be a paralytic...

- Fringe, S02E02

Cover Me

Danny: (While posing for a family photo) Honey, are you packing?
Barbara: (Pats pockets) no, it must be in the fridge.

Come Closer

Sean O'Dell*

Come closer
Come into this
Come closer

You are quite the beauty
If no one has ever told you that before
Know that now
You are beautiful

There is joy in how your mouth dances with your teeth
Your smile is a sign of how sacred your life truly is
Come into it
Come closer

Know that whatever God prays to
He asks of it to make something of worth
He woke from his dreams
Stripped the soil from the spaces inside himself
He made you
He made you and was happy for this
You make the Lord happy
Come into this
Come closer

There are birds beating their wings beneath your breastplate
Gentle sparrows who are aching to sing
Come aching hearts
Come soldiers of joy
Doormen of truth
Know that my heart was too big for my body
So I let it go...

- Anis Mojgani

* This is the most likely source for this photograph...

Ice

unknown

“He sounded different, or maybe I’d never listened to him before. Maybe those times in his car and in the parking lot weren’t exactly what I’d thought they were. Maybe he’d noticed the ice, the stones, the way I believed I deserved to be hurt.”
- The Ice Queen, Alice Hoffman

Where did it get you?

You took away all the oceans and all the room.
You gave me my shoes-size in earth with bars around it.
Where did it get you? Nowhere.
You left me my lips, and they shape words, even in silence.
- Osip Mandelstam

Forest

I feel the forest in you when we touch, I see its deep green shadows living in your eyes.
Your skin smells like pine needles and fallen leaves, and when you sweat, you leave the sweet smell of sap behind.
I feel the forest in you, secret and wild, it’s there in your deep-rooted silence, skittish and holding all of your secrets deep inside of your chest.
There is a wild tang on your lips, the smell of wet earth on the palms of your bark-rough hands.
You stare at me, slowly stripping away your layers of formality, of illusions, until you stand naked in the cool air, green grass tickling at your feet. And then you turn and walk slowly home, alone.
Alone into this place where I will never be able to follow you.
Alone, with your heart stripped bare, your secrets carried away with the wind and picked up by birds.
The trees rustle welcome, the leaves hardly make a sound underneath your feet, and every day there is a golden Fall leaf sitting on my pillow.

Possession

“The novelty of possession is still an exotic thing to us, a precious thing, intoxicating. I envy the table its scars, the scorch marks caused by the hot bred tins. I envy its calm sense of time, and I wish I could say: I did this five years ago. I made this mark, this ring caused by a wet coffee cup, this cigarette burn, this ladder of cuts against the wood’s coarse grain. This is where Anouk carved her initials, the year she was six years old, this secret place behind the table leg. I did this on a warm day seven summers ago with the carving knife. Do you remember? Do you remember the summer the river ran dry? Do you remember?”
- Chocolat, Joanne Harris

Unhappily

Sureality, dA

“Eventually, if you follow them long enough, even the happy stories end unhappily.”
- Shalom Auslander, This American Life, “2010: Chronicle Of A Death Foretold”