GYMNOPÉDIE.

[derangedrhythms]

It was as if the dead were closer to me than the living. I understood them better.

Sadeq Hedayat, Buried Alive; from 'Buried Alive', tr. Deborah Miller Mostaghel

[juilletdeux]

Pamella Roland | Spring/Summer 2019

[nosebleedclub]

Do you feel fulfilled?

[anthologiae]

If fulfilment is a construct, then yes, yes, very much so.

Holding the wishful, wistful knife against the throat has never felt so gentle, when the sharp of the neck is the one slicing it back, metal cut. There is a sense of satisfaction in the nook of this very act. Call it violent, but it is the predilection towards turning everything brutal into soft carnage that keeps me alive. If you count with your hands, both hands, just how many times you need to murder yourself in your sleep, again and again and again, there must be that knowledge that fills you to the brim, your oesophagus full.

& you asked, you ask, again, how do you keep your sanity intact after each bloodspill?

Let me tell you, that as you pry your insides open, there are always cruelties within. Men were birthed as monsters, clawing out of the mothers’ wombs. There is no apology to enunciate when you do this to keep yourself alive. Survival is a brand of justification. Love, you were meant to find fulfilment in breathing, drowning.

( There is no shame in the act of love, and to love means to live—even if living means killing. )

[derangedrhythms]

Richard Siken, Crush; from ‘Wishbone’

[narcissiste]

Ralph & Russo’s Baroque Pump, Eden Heel Pump, and Eden Pump. 

[ruched]

Heaven Gaia Autumn 2021

[fleur-aesthetic]

instagram | thewildwoodmoth

[antigonick]

In our mouths, the tongue’s a knife, each word a wild edge, where we stammer only our own wound, a drop of blood sensual on the tongue—

Rebecca Seiferle, excerpt of “Wild Tongue”, in Wild Tongue (via antigonick)

[fashionsprose]

Details at Frank Sorbier Couture F/W 2014

[sad-plath]

Anna Niestroj , In dreams I walk with you

[weusedtobegiants]

I could hardly look into his eyes, I looked more often at his mouth, and could raise my eyes only briefly.

Marie Howe, from Magdalene: Poems

[lifeinpoetry]

Truth is I didn’t want a man. Really,

I want to feel all of me realize what is, what is;

my body, in existence; enough.

— Jennifer Huang, from “Pleasure Practice,” Return Flight

[muresetivoire]

"You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit."

- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

[soft-lovely]

Dresden, Germany

[vintagepales2-blog]

“Don Quixote” 

photographed by Marina Dmitrieva

[derangedrhythms]

Richard Siken, War of the Foxes; from 'Detail of the Fire'

[weusedtobegiants]

Vain our attempt to evade their atrocities, long have I known that.

Christa Wolf, from Cassandra; A Novel and Four Essays, tr. by Jan van Heurck