#soredemonao

Aw you made my day ❤️💕 So, there’s another one coming your way 😬😬😬 Hope you enjoy!

“Animals don't behave like men,' he said. 'If they have to fight, they fight; and if they have to kill they kill. But they don't sit down and set their wits to work to devise ways of spoiling other creatures' lives and hurting them. They have dignity and animality.” ― Richard Adams, Watership Down

Annotated Peoples Make Connections: if they walked around in love/for love/by love with SFX labels to their chests

Let us. Let rays. Let the light carry down. Let us end upon the pavement for eggs. Let us hold the line together and play it, see the blurred story in between double bows. The tendrils we pull apart loosen as girls touch and girls know how. The soaped slack tendrils made of smoke, gold flour, and bodies pressed together thicker: toast ‘em twang ‘em. Make it all snap back into place slightly welted. Let the sun snap back into place by the time the last of the storm is clinging onto our fur. We’ll hold down the fort, hold down the band. Hold down the trombone, hold down the fulfilling of growls. Let us watch the thief enter the mountain. Let the mountain know someone is here. Let us course, let us condense all night of the filmsy things, make ‘em leave rings on the table. Discuss a cavernous bone tide shaking its whelps into braids. Or convene on the subject of a sugar-rough heliopause and us on its edge, the Goldilocks Effect us. Us of the bonafide tendons. A catty tone, seriously though, lets us stretch things that lock, these things that wars are begun over; a flighty foot, a lifted lid. Let the heat timbre of us strike all silent until all that’s left is the density of hips unto hips, celestial buds of the purring evaporation. The window greets us, the world beyond steals all the dark things we disciplined, with the same marks of our ever-sorry hearts written backwards as replied letters from the stars dashing the strange blue. How else can we see what we have said through our nostrils coarsely of men.

At 5.43 a.m I woke and found birds in my branches,

what a murmur, what a noise; picking leaves out off my locks

- both the rusted and a great shock of tousled morning hair -

all resting and nesting; suddenly life tangled in the cracks

beneath my skin & that was more beautiful than my hands

carrying silence whenever November blanches.

So thank you, little birds. I hope you find what you might be looking for somewhere along my lines & if not, then just some time to rest your weary limbs in my lap. Stay as long as you like. Your presence is light in my head.

*

thejewwhale hat deinen Eintrag gerebloggt und das hinzugefügt:

That’s beautiful.

That's a heart-wrenching compliment. The best, in a way.

prettyhairsadface hat auf deinen Eintrag geantwortet “something gets stuck in my throat; not square enough to rub me raw...”

I imagine it in person, aloud. When the last syllable is read, my lips leak, 'damn'. (Hope replies never get old)

(I'll always appreciate your words draped around mine. I'd love to listen to it, aloud.)

soredemonao hat deinen Eintrag gerebloggt und das hinzugefügt:

I LOVE this post! You’re an amazing observer. I...

This is - I don't know. Thank you is not enough. It's all I have for now. Take it. This one is yours.

esn13 hat auf deinen Eintrag geantwortet “apologizing for the five things I need you to do for me.”

aaaa

By any chance … are you stoned right now? Just checking

It's a huuuuuuuuge insult for me being asked if I'm stoned.

No I'm not! I'm against drugs, I'm sorry about that.