Dear Crazy
I vacillate between feeling everything and nothing at all. If I told you that you’ve won would you leave me alone?
— Diamond Sharp, from Super Sad Black Girl

oozey mess

shark vs the universe

blake kathryn

JBB: An Artblog!
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$LAYYYTER
ojovivo
Show & Tell
todays bird

Product Placement
Peter Solarz
cherry valley forever

#extradirty

@theartofmadeline
Cosimo Galluzzi
we're not kids anymore.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

pixel skylines

Janaina Medeiros

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@angeltrash666
Dear Crazy
I vacillate between feeling everything and nothing at all. If I told you that you’ve won would you leave me alone?
— Diamond Sharp, from Super Sad Black Girl
I tell you, I need space, but boundaries are hard to press down onto, put into place, spread apart. If I tell you I don’t want to have sex, will you tell me it’s okay? The vampire in me draws you in, but as soon as I have you, I don’t know what to do with you. The only way I know desire is to watch you salivate over me, as I smell the blood moving forcefully through your veins.
— Eli Tareq El Bechelany-Lynch, from "[Dear friends, lovers, and in-betweens]," Knot Body
in the therapist’s office you become dissociative flesh & from above you can see your interior’s ecology
— Scott-Patrick Mitchell, from "embodied," Clean: Faith, Abuse and George Pell
That first star: it can do nothing to save us from ourselves, from those men, all ivory and ache. The first star weeps. Because to bear witness is a burden. And we cannot sleep. Leave your body: as ghost step into atramentous.
— Scott-Patrick Mitchell, from "The Mourning Star," Clean: Faith, Abuse and George Pell
girl hungry girl you unstitched razor girl blade girl grubby necked & spitting girl or swallowing headdown girl stomach pitted fine girl gumming to sidewalk catcalled girl escape girl o plucking bones from graves girl rising girl rising & rising girl teach me again how to live that loose that tumble down before I slit the vein girl & never mother us whole
— Jennifer Givhan, from "Rubble Girl," Belly to the Brutal
We burn ourselves alive from the inside.
— Scott-Patrick Mitchell, from "Co-Dependency (How Terror Forms)," Clean: Faith, Abuse and George Pell
No Ceiling
ФЅ FДГДL ЄЯЯФЯ, ЧФЦ ДЯЄ ІИFЄҀГЄↁ !! (#゚Д゚)
fétiches + fétichismes - jean-michel ribettes (1999)
When I go to the doctor, they hand me paperwork with a chart to locate my pain. I can’t pinpoint it. I “X” my whole body. My entire life.
— Glenis Redmond, from "I Stay Sick," The Listening Skin
My mother says he has to be in the ground for these poems to be born.
The tree in our front yard I machete to its milk heart.
— Alexandra Regalado, from "Escape Room," Relinquenda