October 2011
91 posts
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I want to stumble out of trucks inebriated and boneless, shrugging off the arm of someone I’ve never even cared about. I want to spend the night with someone but walk home alone. You might think it’s lonely, but I enjoy knowing the mechanics of people, this hook and this string, pulling taut, taunting. I don’t want to be a nonevent anymore…I want the ocean to break around...
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Things between us
taciturntom:
I want to have things between us
Deep lakes which no one knows about
Endless sands to sift when suns
Hang low and our friends have
Gone home
I am a zombie today
Writer’s block always makes me feel hungry and just generally miserable and such
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Maybe if you would
Water the young fucking trees
They might even grow
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I sat in whole freeze frames of thought, still and empty, finding weeds to pull and plants to water, only to discover they were one in the same. …I am untouched and blind, too, wandering down corridors inside myself, looking for a glass of water that’ll taste wrong when I drink it.
I believe in unconsciousness, and a window with a view on the river, wet painted sunsets, dripping red,...
“Elaine sat on the breezeway in an old yellow nightgown of her mother’s...”
– Sylvia Plath
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I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone
by Rainer Maria Rilke, as translated by Annemarie S. Kidder
I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to truly consecrate the hour. I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough to be to you just object and thing, dark and smart. I want my free will and want it accompanying the path which leads to action; and want during times that beg questions, where something is...
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When he was grieving he would fold and crinkle his chin into complex shapes but would never shake or cry just held still, grown man origami.
Her voice reminds me of Frosted Flakes and she never looks quite right in a dress because she doesn’t hold herself in any trace of a feminine way she just juts out her feet and elbows all ragged angles and largeness in delicacies.
They both never were...
I’ve had my tumblr for a year today. It’s strange to look back and notice how much I’ve changed since then.
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“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful that...”
– Anais Nin
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It’s a bit crowded in here. Overcrowding is why people kill themselves. I imagine thoughts spilling out like a runny nose. Until you’ve got to have more room and blast it open with a gunshot.
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