words

"I have calculated the total number of hours we spend sleeping beside each other in a week and I..."

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:39:35 -0400

“I have calculated the total number of hours
we spend sleeping beside each other in a week

and I wanted to tell you it could be considered
a full-time job. We could be eligible for healthcare
benefits, could probably even pay for a mortgage

by now. I remind myself of this, in daylight, when
I miss you and cannot reach across the bed

for the comforting filling and refilling
of your chest. Such a strange affair
we are having on each other; these hours

that I have not lost but do not remember.
This cannot be the best of love: to drool

on someone’s collarbone or inhale an elbow to
the jaw or be woken by the most ungraceful sounds
of the body. But what is it if not the softening

of grips? A letting go of. Your heart
finally slowly that stubborn, lonely march.”

- “These Hours I Have Not Lost But Do Not Remember” by Sierra DeMulder (via emes)

Photo

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:38:30 -0400

"two people who were once very close can without blame or grand betrayal become strangers. perhaps..."

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:36:41 -0400

“two people who were once very close can
without blame
or grand betrayal
become strangers.
perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.”

- Warsan Shire (via thelaststandingunicorn)

"I’d thought once, actually, of taking your mind, if you asked. I’d thought I could help you fall..."

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:36:35 -0400

““I’d thought once, actually, of taking your mind, if you asked. I’d thought I could help you fall asleep at night.”

He opened his mouth to say something. Shut it again. His face closed for a moment, his unreadable mask falling into place. He spoke softly. “But that wouldn’t be fair; for after I slept you’d be left awake, with no one to help you sleep.””

- Fire by Kristen Cashore (via remchan)

"This is a story, told the way you say stories should be told: somebody grew up, fell in love, and..."

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:36:15 -0400

“This is a story, told the way you say stories should be told: somebody grew up, fell in love, and spent a winter with her lover in the country. This, of course, is the barest outline, and futile to discuss. It’s as pointless as throwing birdseed on the ground while snow still falls fast. Who expects small things to survive when even the largest get lost? People forget years and remember moments. Seconds and symbols are left to sum things up: the black shroud over the pool. Love, in its shortest form, becomes a word. What I remember about all that time is one winter. The snow. Even now, saying “snow,” my lips move so that they kiss the air.”

- from ”Snow,” by Ann Beattie (via lucy-vanpelt)

"Be kind to yourself. Stop telling yourself that whatever you are struggling with “should” be easy...."

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:36:03 -0400

“Be kind to yourself. Stop telling yourself that whatever you are struggling with “should” be easy. If something is hard for you, it is hard for you. There are probably Reasons, though those may just be how you are wired. Acknowledge these things. When you finish something hard, be proud! Celebrate a little.

And really, just stop saying “should” to yourself about your thoughts and feelings in any context. You feel how you feel. The things in your head are the things in your head. You can’t change either directly through sheer force of will. You can only change what you do. Stop beating yourself up for who and what you are right now–it isn’t productive. Focus on moving forward.

”

- How to keep moving forward, even when your brain hates you. (via daxsymbiont)

"I think it’s intoxicating when somebody is so unapologetically who they are."

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:35:51 -0400

“I think it’s intoxicating when somebody is so unapologetically who they are.”

- Don Cheadle (via creatingaquietmind)

love is neon-colored: agnesnutter: Lately I keep things just to throw them away: practice,...

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:35:45 -0400

love is neon-colored: agnesnutter: Lately I keep things just to throw them away: practice,...:

agnesnutter:

Lately I keep things
just to throw them away: practice,
practice. What I mean is, I’ve had enough
longing, enough of nothing
ever being enough. Look how the earth
shrugs its mountainous shoulders, how the cows don’t blink
unless there’s a fly, how the pavement quits
to…

"And then one student said that happiness is what happens when you go to bed on the hottest night of..."

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:34:16 -0400

“And then one student said that happiness is what happens when you go to bed on the hottest night of the summer, a night so hot you can’t even wear a tee-shirt and you sleep on top of the sheets instead of under them, although try to sleep is probably more accurate. And then at some point late, late, late at night, say just a bit before dawn, the heat finally breaks and the night turns into cool and when you briefly wake up, you notice that you’re almost chilly, and in your groggy, half-consciousness, you reach over and pull the sheet around you and just that flimsy sheet makes it warm enough and you drift back off into a deep sleep. And it’s that reaching, that gesture, that reflex we have to pull what’s warm - whether it’s something or someone - toward us, that feeling we get when we do that, that feeling of being sad in the world and ready for sleep, that’s happiness.”

- Paul Schmidtberger - Design Flaws of the Human Condition (via lucy-vanpelt)

"This is not what the door’s for—slamming you up against, opening your legs with my knee. And it..."

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:34:06 -0400

“This is not what the door’s for—slamming
you up against, opening
your legs with my knee. And it isn’t
leaving, the thing I keep doing
with my shoes still on, or in the car
in the driveway in broad
daylight after waving
goodbye to your neighbors
again. But my body’s a bad
dog, all dumb tongue
and hunger, down
on all fours again, tied up
outside again, coming
when called but then always refusing
to stay. I know what I’m trying
to say, but it isn’t
talking, the thing that I do with my mouth
to your ear, even though
we got the orifices right. To leave
I would have to put clothes on,
and they’d have to fit better
than all of this skin. To leave
I would have to know where to begin:
like this, pressed up
against the half-open window? Like
this, with my foot on the gas? If seeing
is believing then why isn’t touching
knowing for sure? I just want my nerves
to do the work for me, I don’t want
to have to decide. There’s blood in my hands
for fight and blood in my legs
for flight and nowhere
a sign. Believe me, I’ll leave if you just
let me touch you again for the last
last time.”

- Ali Shapiro, I Keep Trying to Leave but the Sex Just Gets Better and Better (via lucy-vanpelt)

Covers

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:31:16 -0400

tylerknott:

Remember the time
when the covers
on our bed
were the only
shield
and armor
we needed
against
the terrifying
everything
that surrounded
us?

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

Photo

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:29:31 -0400

coffeeandcheesecake: The first time I say I love you, your face crumbles. You look at methe way man...

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:29:23 -0400

coffeeandcheesecake:

The first time I say I love you, your face
crumbles. You look at me
the way man stares in terror
at the stars and the sea.

You grasp your head, fist
your hair, hiss, whisper why me
why me I am weak I am
dirt I am dust I am
nothing—

Why you? Because
the earth is made of dust
and dirt and you are as
essential to me as earth
is to sky; you give me something
to set my sun against.

The dirt and the dust are not
weak. I could build a house
out of you; you are the roof
when I rain.

"I can’t watch the sea for a long time or what’s happening on land doesn’t interest me anymore."

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:28:25 -0400

“I can’t watch the sea for a long time or what’s happening on land doesn’t interest me anymore.”

- Monica Vitti (via nevver)

lullabysounds: It’s really weird thinking about how every person you walk by has a name and a...

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 01:22:34 -0400

lullabysounds:

It’s really weird thinking about how every person you walk by has a name and a personality and a group of friends you’ll never know and a messed up family or an awesome family or that they’re in love or that they’re depressed or are having the best or worst day of their life. There are a lot of people around and I’ll hardly know any of them.

"Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal..."

Tue, 05 Feb 2013 02:37:52 -0500

“

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

There will the river whispering run
Warm’d by thy eyes, more than the sun;
And there the ‘enamour’d fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, be’st loth,
By sun or moon, thou dark’nest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net.

Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest;
Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies,
Bewitch poor fishes’ wand’ring eyes.

For thee, thou need’st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait:
That fish, that is not catch’d thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.

”

- The Bait, John Donne (via wutheringss)

#There is a Wright and Teague ring with a quote from this on #’Of golden sands and crystal brooks’ #If I were ever to be wed #Because it’s Donne #Come on #John Donne #Can charm the pants off anyone ever #It is known

(via wutheringss)

"Snowdrops" by Louise Gluck

Tue, 15 Jan 2013 08:09:42 -0500

cinaed:

Snowdrops, by Louise Gluck

Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn’t expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring -

afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.

vega-ofthe-lyre: Hear My Prayer, O Lord… by Barbara Hamby

Tue, 15 Jan 2013 08:09:31 -0500

vega-ofthe-lyre:

Hear My Prayer, O Lord… by Barbara Hamby

if you think you were born in the wrong era

Tue, 15 Jan 2013 08:09:03 -0500

1.
fuck off.

2.
realize that time machines
were built
for richstraightwhite men who have
never feared walking down
the street at night.

3.
smoke cigarettes with the luxury
of knowing that
they’ll kill you someday.

4.
throw away your record players
and smash your vinyls into bits
and recognize
that the jagged edges are
nowhere near as rough as the past

(also, just fucking download spotify already).

5.
get dressed how you want
and eat what you want
and marry who you want
and learn what you want
just because you can.

6.
that whalebone corset looks
prettier tucked away
in the glass case of a museum
than it would wrapped around
your middle
squeezing the breath from your lungs
and the roses blooming in your cheeks.

7.
swallow pills instead of
biting your tongue.
you won’t be left in the gutter
or locked away in a tower,
i promise.

8.
money was always
hard to come by.

9.
if you’re unhappy with where
you are,
go.

we can fly, these days.

"A Hundred Ways to Say Your Name" by Tania de Rozario

Tue, 15 Jan 2013 08:08:29 -0500

cinaed:

A HUNDRED WAYS TO SAY YOUR NAME

I avoid speaking your name in conversation,
throwing it to the air as if it were nothing
more than an assumption of you; it is my last
mode of defence. The last item of clothing
to discard before I realise I’m naked in public.

Because they can hear it in my voice. I know.
Even in that one short syllable that means
everything and nothing; your name is as common
as you are rare. As easy as you are not.
As simple as love should be, but never is.

But when I’m alone, I tie my tongue softly
round the familiar sound, as if pronouncing
with conviction the phonetics of desire
will cause time to pause just long enough
for the earth to hear me naming my loss.