Anything Tarantino... Apocolypse Now, Blade Runner, Hotel New Hampshire, Tommy Boy, The Haunting (original), Thief and the Cobbler, Battlefield Earth (if you've read this far I gotta make sure yer still paying attention)
Hands reach out tentatively to touch the wonder of your face, your skin translucent like spun glass, only more beautiful. I could stare into your crystalline eyes for centuries, bask in the afterglow of your smile until I am dust.
I worry you are oblivious to my feelings – or worse – uncaring. You seem unaware of the cyclone of emotions roiling beneath my surface or perhaps too concerned with your own inner storms, your own demons.
I see a darkness in your eyes sometimes when you think I am not looking. There is a quality of restlessness about you that makes me want to reach out to you, try and comfort you.
Is it possible to be both frightened and fascinated by you? I sense a storm in your soul, the lightning flash of which I sometimes catch reflected in your eyes. I see a question on your lips which I long to answer.
But I know that you and I can never be. This burgeoning flower of feeling must and will be stopped before it can open, petal by petal, and reveal that which I’ve tried so hard to conceal. ..
When every will and thrill has gone, you have to change or just move on. You cannot live without your heart. For what is life, to play a part? When you don't have a joke to tell, and all you do is scream and yell, you need to step aside and see your life the way it ought to be. Are things worth getting stressed about; worth causing you to wail and pout? Weigh every loss against each gain. Don't let each day be full of pain. You have to do what you enjoy, for in repression there's no joy. So seek your dreams where they may go, and when you catch them, you will know. The will and thrill will come again. You'll find your happiness and then your heart will be in all you do. You may just tell a joke or two. Do what it takes, don't waste away. Give life your best in your own way.
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O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up--for you the flag is flung for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
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