shh

i’ve had several asks and messages asking for study/revision tips, how to raise grades and general study habit questions along those lines. instead of answering them all separately (bc more than a few were on anon) i thought i’d compile a list of tips in one post. so hopefully this is helpful to anyone who uses it and if you need anything else feel free to message me off anon! i’ll put it all under a read more.

hobbies masterpost!

fummel:

In other languages, you are beautiful- mort, muerto- I wish I spoke moon, I wish the bottom of the ocean were sitting in that chair playing cards and noticing how famous you are on my cell phone- picture of your eyes guarding your nose and the fire you set by walking, picture of dawn getting up early to enthrall your skin- what I hate about stars is they’re not those candles that make a joke of cake, that you blow on and they die and come back, and you you’re not those candles either, how often I realize I’m not breathing, to be like you or just afraid to move at all, a lung or finger, is it time already for inventory, a mountain, I have three of those, a bag of hair, box of ashes, if you were a cigarette I’d be cancer, if you were a leaf, you were a leaf, every leaf, as far as this tree can say

This morning there’s snow everywhere. We remark on it. You tell me you didn’t sleep well. I say I didn’t either. You had a terrible night. “Me too.” We’re extraordinarily calm and tender with each other as if sensing the other’s rickety state of mind. As if we knew what the other was feeling. We don’t, of course. We never do. No matter. It’s the tenderness I care about. That’s the gift this morning that moves and holds me. Same as every morning.

I want to eat your sparrow, come here. I want to lick your sparrow claws come here. I want to cut your sorrows out you’re hollowed out. Come here. I want to suck your fingers off. Come here. I want to give you your history back. Your fingers back. I want to tell you yes. Come back. I want to show you my pressure, my heavy, my opened and clothes, my under and o’s. Come here. I want to finger your bones back. I want to sew your bones back I want to re-blood your history. I want to undo you like a mystery novel. Is this the kitchen? The table-saw? Is this your memory? Your tree-dream? You’re declawed. I want to give you your teeth back. Your teeth marks. I want to spit back your teeth-pull. I want to unhinge your heart-jaws. Come here. I want to sit you down on the bed and give you back my years. Here. I breathed your name into the leaves. Here. I breathed you back into the trees. Here. This is your tree-dream this is your tree-house, this is a bedroom, this is a silver broom this is a shallow dream. This is my tree-dirt, my bee shirt. This is my honey-stalk and these are your climbing shoes. Harmonica me to sleep again. Put your sparrow on my back skin.

Because I miss you I have made a pile of clothes along the bed, your exact height and weight. I’ve invented you for a night! I put the dumbbells of my hands around the sweater that’s your waist and let them fall asleep there. The moon is in the yard floating through the blinds, becoming a zebra with glowing stripes, asleep on the floor. In my fourteenth dream about you we were in Paris. But I’m simpleminded, and also I want to be with you in Paris! I want baguettes and petit dejeuners, I want the rue de la Lune and hotel sheets. French handcuffs and French bottled water. I have added another T-shirt to you because maybe by now you’ve had dinner. In the morning I will attach a couple wires to the socks and boxers that are being your head. I’ll pull down a big heavy switch and see if you don’t rise up, moaning, your arms out in front of you, your legs beginning to kick, and I will hold you up and kiss you where your mouth hurts because it’s new and was only a handkerchief.