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fatima aamer bilal, from coffin heart? bury me.
[text id: how did you get so close that i have to dissect you out from under my skin? / memory is a deathbed. remembrance is a grave. the memory of you is a scab that i keep picking so that it scars. a burn, a souvenir, something to claw at that claws back at me. / i refuse to be haunted by something less. / there's a sun-sized ache where your hands used to be. / and now that your place is empty, the blood in my heart pumps around nothing. / nothing. / nothing at all. / senseless circulation. / what am i to live for when i have made my body my casket? / where am i to go from here? / and i always knew longing had another name she wouldn't let me call her by โ it's hunger. / my heart grew up to be far more starved than my stomach. / it's the things you learn in your childhood, from the words of your mother, from the hands of your father. / if your teeth do not graze my bones, i do not wish for you to kiss me. / how have i turned gentle love into such devastation? / such greediness? / i carry a coffin for a heart; everything i love must be buried. / plant your garden in the cracks of my skinโmud, gravel, everything. let my blood be water to cater to your needs. / terrible, terrible human, thinks barbarity and love are words of the same meaning. / a mad dog would be a far more gentle lover to the rocks being thrown at him. / and, my dear, i wouldn't ask you to fold me in the pages of your favorite book, just the embedment of fingers between my ribs. / how did you get so close that i have to dissect you out from under my skin? / GET CLOSER.]
fatima aamer bilal, from i mother it the absence of her, iii. i am not a person that can be loved for a very long time excerpt from moony moonless sky.
๐ค
daily remindersโ
rest
drink water
be kind to others
be kind to yourself
take your medicine
have something to eat
โ
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by Maya Beano
reblog to shlop your friends
an alien
this body is not a home
jody chan sick (via @geryone) \ edward hopper interior, model reading (1925) \ olivia laing the lonely city (via @soracities) \ joan didion on self-respect (via @girlfictions) \ dion palinckx (2019) \ james tate selected poems (via @heartshop) \ @artofbrianluongโ \ olivia laing the lonely city (via @soracitiesโ) \ edvard munch self-portrait in hell
shout me a chai latte
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I nourished stars, dreams, and souls, never noticing that my own veins were being emptied of their generous blood. / Now I ask myself what star will come to drip itself into my exhausted heart, and to what fountain will I be led, where I can drink like a weary animal. / I ask myself what I will do here on earth with this worthless, defiant body. And I hear my body answer: / โWhat will I do with this spark that believed itself the sun and this breath that believed itself the wind?
Dulce Marรญa Loynaz, tr. by James OโConnor, from Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems
There was a lull in the pain. I fled from it as if I were fleeing a wolf suddenly taken with sleep. / But when it wakes, it will pick up my scent and follow my trail. I know this. And it doesnโt matter where I hide, it will know how to find me, and when it does, it will pounce on a body too weary to resist it. / Why must I be the preyed upon? Why does its mouth water every time it spots me? / I have no blood to slake its savage thirst and I carry nothing in my saddlebags but the echoes of dreams grown cold. / Where did I lose my way? I canโt remember. / What flowers did I step on pretending I didnโt see them? / Before me the great jungle grows dense.
Dulce Marรญa Loynaz, tr. by James OโConnor, from Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems
i have this need for my soul to leave my body and become a dramatic violin sonata
๐ฆ๐๐ขโ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ก, ๐๐ข๐ก ๐ฆ๐๐ขโ๐ฃ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐
By Bao Tran Trung
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Black cats are lucky. (viaย leahweissmuller)
MAN [IN THICK ACCENT]: Black cat bring good luck.ย Not bad luck.ย I have black cat - See, him face - And I am not dead today: Good luck!
