me. me when a poem says something ive felt before

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@astralunic
me. me when a poem says something ive felt before
― Mieko Kawakami, Heaven
1/5/22
Rainer Maria Rilke, Selected Letters, 1902-1922
i am just an unhealed wound that is constantly being picked open again
i gulp this sadness like thirst / i want to be cuddled in it / i want to empty myself in it
Ugochukwu Damian Okpara, Notes on Desire
“Where exactly do you put your hands on somebody who hurts everywhere?”
— Charles D'Ambrosio, “Screenwriter,” The Death Fish Museum
Safia Elhillo, from Home Is Not a Country; “Boys”
“Memory eats me alive. Memory guts me, unravels me, strews me in the snow.”
— Aurora Engle-Pratt, from “White Out” published in ÄLPHÄ (via lifeinpoetry)
“If nobody has died, why do I grieve? // How do I dress the body I will not meet? How do I dress the body I cannot love?”
— Rachel Mennies, from “July 16, 2016,” published in The Adroit Journal
Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos
my vibes arent off i am cursed theres a difference
I believed
if i caught it before it got out of my mouth it wouldn’t poison anyone but me. i smell like vomit. i smell like defeat. i want to rot into this white seat and i want to take my insurance agency with me.
i want to pull on my tongue until i unravel my belly. i keep writing the same four things and none of them are going to make my mom happy.
it turns out you can believe all you want, babygirl. the contamination is gonna spill out of you in a soft, shiny glow. no matter how much you print it backwards, it’s still your name. stand up under the weight of it and suffer, prophet. carry that golden mantle. carry that catskull in your body and burn your body on the shipmast.
carry yourself , reeking, to your own bedside. take the helm of your hollow jaw and rip yourself asunder, skin to sinew and back again.
i can’t eat. i can’t look god in the eye. i can’t sleep. i can’t stop shaking. i can’t believe. i can’t find it. i usually can find it, but i can’t find it, and i no longer feel like looking. i can’t find it! i can’t find it! do you remember what i saw? can you tell me what it was shaped like? can you describe the scene of the accident. can you pretend nobody was crying.
i can’t find it. i can’t find it. i can’t see.
hey mom, i’m just calling to say i love you. and, uh. thank you for raising me.
“…and I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.”
— Emily Dickinson, The Letters of Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson // Virginia Woolf
truly nothing beats the tags on this site, bitches will be like #AFKLJLKSDJDKLF HFHHHHH hhHGHH OP wHY WOU ld yo ud o thiS I CSTN BREATHe #c: jonathan sims #f: the magnus archives #scopophobia #gore #aes: нσω ∂σ уσυ ℓσνє? ℓιкє α ƒιѕт. ℓιкє α кηιƒє. #not to me. not if it's queue.
i speak spanish let me translate: ?