[sosuperawesome]

Helen Ahpornsiri on Instagram

[chuckakot]

“A sunny day, is an expression, of your good mornings, knitting together, warmth and melodies; there is a song, sleeping in my chest, when you pour me, with these sensations, unbearably, cajolingly, you are my tender adjective.”

— Chuck Akot, from Letters to Teo, WARMTH AND MELODIES

[heavenly-lowkey]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“It hurts to watch it all. My heart is aching. I sit and grieve, my face a fading blossom.”

— Li Bai, tr. by Keith Holyoak, from “Facing the Moon: Poems of Li Bai and Du Fu,”

[avenidadelospoetas]

Remedios Varo (Ruptura) 1955

[russell-tomlin]

And Here the Sun Lifted the Fog

[inkskinned]

she said my hand fit like small matches. i wanted to paint my tongue over the roof of her tomorrow. i wanted to be there, and holy enough, and good for our sorrow. when she broke the sullen were we both not weeping. all open faced goddesses with no account for the bleeding.

please come home, i’m sorry. please come home, we will trade ashes in the cineplex and go see bruises healing. i want to be like an open hamster ball or at least in your life long enough you call me jasper. i want to be back and alive and in that white curve of a palm. i am regretting every summer untalking. between clovers it would be kinder to cut me off completely. just say i need to be gone and i will do so, you know.

if this is a bone. call me home and kiss me on the streets.

[zhuanghongru]

Canadian photographer Eiko Jones

[leaveful]

[exosomaticmemory]

Waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours this morning

Waking up in another world

Searching for shifts in the strange night, for holes in the structure

I spend longer in the mirror, my fingers tap my flesh, see if it’s still there - still mine - still yours - now his

I wipe black smudges from under my eyes, brush my teeth with my fingers

These things are familiar patterns

Things that once felt glamourous but are meant to be growing tired. I guess I’m growing tired maybe

I step onto the street and it feels the most fitting days are always filled with rain

So painfully thirsty I wish the sky would open wider, pour itself into my mouth

I tip my head back and open wider, playing with the sky, playing god as usual

Wish the rain would fill the air around me, send me under water, send me something to fill the space

Sitting at the bottom of the swimming pool - in a hotel - with my sister - never ever opening my eyes

I dream of these days and these places

I walk home to another bed that isn’t mine, in a room that isn’t mine, in a city that isn’t mine

On a street lined with houses of people I’ve never seen

This bed, this island, this swimming pool, this city never opening my eyes

So much space beside me, trying to decide who I miss

[thewoodbetween]

Woodcut from Keizaburo Tejima’s Swan Sky (1983, Japan)

[supersonicart]

Danielle Klebes, Paintings.

Colorful slices of life from artist Danielle Klebes series of work entitled, “Utopia.”

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Be sure to follow Supersonic Art on Instagram!

[jagkanbliintetal]

[eliamatrell]

— MARGARET ATWOOD, from ‘Cat’s Eye’.

[pi-la]

Cool World (1992) dir. Ralph Bakshi.

[forgottenbones]

“https://t.co/J32v4atx0b”

[etherealvistas]

“Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.”

— Paulo Coelho