Late Paul Patton (B. June 1st 1942) and a backside note to his late wife Gwendolyn Patton nee Tate (B. July 28th 1944)
the empty plate is for you when
you arrive my love. The plate and my plans
will be filled when you get here

★
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
YOU ARE THE REASON
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Claire Keane
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if i look back, i am lost

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Late Paul Patton (B. June 1st 1942) and a backside note to his late wife Gwendolyn Patton nee Tate (B. July 28th 1944)
the empty plate is for you when
you arrive my love. The plate and my plans
will be filled when you get here

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“Everything touches me—I see too much, I hear too much, everything demands too much of me.”
— Clarice Lispector II Why This World: A Biography of Clarice Lispector (via violentwavesofemotion)
I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
Ali day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
— Sylvia Plath, ‘Elm’
“I’m one uncontrollable hunger away from ruin.”
— Lynn Emanuel, from “Single Girl. One Room Flat,” featured in “When She Named Fire: An Anthology of Contemporary Poetry by American Women”

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I am devoured with restlessness and fever. I cannot be quiet. I am wildly dreaming of escape, voyages, love. Wildly craving love. What can I do?
Anaïs Nin in a diary entry dated June 13 1943, featured in Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1939-1947
All for nothing. All of this for nothing.
Morgan Nikola-Wren, from Magic With Skin On.
her yerde kendine doğru kıvrılmak

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“My wound existed before me; I was born to embody it.”
— Joë Bousquet (via mirroir)
Sculpture of The Bear from Annihilation (2018)
SOURCE
Janelle Tan, from “Second Aubade for Singapore"
why didnt sisyphus commit suicide. is he stupid
Camu writes an essay on this. That in this absurd situation, Sisyphus has given meaning to this state, and is actually fulfilled to do this.
"All Sisyphus' silent joy is contained therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is a thing Likewise, the absurd man, when he contemplates his torment, silences all the idols. In the universe suddenly restored to its silence, the myriad wondering little voices of the earth rise up. Unconscious, secret calls, invitations from all the faces, they are the necessary reverse and price of victory. There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night. The absurd man says yes and his efforts will henceforth be unceasing. If there is a personal fate, there is no higher destiny, or at least there is, but one which he concludes is inevitable and despicable. For the rest, he knows himself to be the master of his days. At that subtle moment when man glances backward over his life, Sisyphus returning toward his rock, in that slight pivoting he contemplates that series of unrelated actions which become his fate, created by him, combined under his memory's eye and soon sealed by his death. Thus, convinced of the wholly human origin of all that is human, a blind man eager to see who knows that the night has no end, he is still on the go. The rock is still rolling."

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Brute, Emily Skaja
A Soviet funeral monument in the Roman style encased in glass, Novodevichiy Cemetery, Moscow