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cairns or maybe it's your violet past

#the sky is a lie #mumblelard #excerpted #second blue moon third spring #early twenty first century gk shift #i like the sound of glass when it smashes

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"When I look around me and find myself alone, I sigh for you again; little sigh, and vain sigh, which will not bring you home.

I need you more and more, and the great world grows wider… every day you stay away — I miss my biggest heart; my own goes wandering round, and calls for Susie… Susie, forgive me Darling, for every word I say — my heart is full of you… yet when I seek to say to you something not for the world, words fail me… I shall grow more and more impatient until that dear day comes, for til now, I have only mourned for you; now I begin to hope for you".

Excerpted from Emily Dickinson's letter to Susan Gilbert

#Emily Dickinson #love letter #Susan Gilbert #literature #excerpted #q #letters of Emily Dickinson #quote #lit

‍Something about this world just doesn't feel right,

Everyone's wearing smiles, saying nothing about the battles they've been trying to fight,

People are losing hope, ending their own lives,

As though it is the only thing that's left to save us from our own devilish mind.

@sparkandashes via tumblr

I wonder if demons can be inherited, and I pour a glass of champagne for my family’s ghosts and I think.

questions i am trying not to answer

#poems #poetry #not daily #excerpt #how many poems trying to come to terms with a family history of anxiety and self medicating and addiction are too many #or perhaps more relevant how many are too many to share #this is the last stanza of a longer piece I may or may not post #edit: i posted it #excerpted

It's one of those nights where I'm staring at the ceiling, mind running in circles not even bothering trying to sleep because here's a present of mistakes I've made and a future looming too close and too far to be dealt with and I cannot stand the fact that five years from now someone else will live in my head. I want to mourn for the seconds dying in the whirring of the fan, for the words I could be writing, for the songs I could be singing for the steps I could be taking out and down the hill I want to ask the stars if they remember where they've been if they know where they are going I want to fly ahead to autumn and let the melancholy winter seep inside my bones, want to cling to summer passing like I'll die with all the dragonflies. It's one of those nights where the paper stars on my ceiling are swaying with the turning of the earth and I'm trying to find the words for how a marble statue feels against my eyes, and the way my arms ache to hold a hug, and my feet slide against the top of the water like surface tension breaking free. But more than that, I want to lie here and watch the ceiling pass by and wait until it's cool enough that I can turn off the fan chopping up seconds and listen to the world settle in the grooves of falling summer moving by quick and fragile as a dragonfly's wings

August 2