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Andulka
Claire Keane
★
Not today Justin
d e v o n
JVL
Today's Document
tumblr dot com
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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todays bird
Game of Thrones Daily
Jules of Nature
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$LAYYYTER
wallacepolsom
ellievsbear
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
seen from Tunisia
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@bervex
Noses deep in the syllabus, secretly sketching caricatures of professors engaged in obscenities; we became sisters. Sometimes I look in the mirror and mistake myself for you. I remember Billie Holiday mornings, hair soaked in the scent of cheap nicotine; worried about our mothers. I swoon back into time, a time when I could still embrace you in laughter or in tears. I miss you.
S.S. “Melisa” (via bervex)
Breakfast
He slouches in a wooden chair, sipping apple-cinnamon tea; his eyes locked to his plate as he prays the house will burn or tumble down the hill - he hopes the roof will come down and crush him before the first bite. He asks the sun to stop coming up, the sun just says “Eat up!”
Goethe
I am Goethe, holding a gun to my head pleading for the entirety of what is left of your heart; dead or alive, I want it
I bathe in rose petals, and pen letters you will never read
You are the centre of my universe, a light under my covers, the meaning of life itself
Pig
Clutching bed sheets, heartbeat deafening; muffling the sounds of the last train to Century Park - whispers of my lover float above my head, and between my legs Blood pumps unevenly, flowing straight to the fingertips; leaving my hands numb, lost, dead, flopping over the sides of my bed The creases in my belly (disgusting pig gut) mock my posture - and the spots on my face mock my shapeless body But you still love me so, only you and my soul remains warm, unchanged and untouched, confused in this ugly corpse, this filthy pile of fat and bones growing and bulging like a cancer I keep it safe, just for you - you lovely, blind fool I promise; when are skin meets once more, palm against palm, I’ll be beautiful again
Fatigue
Restless hands and heavy eyes define my posture and worry my mother I beg for sleep to numb the pain the pain of nothing, the invisible bruise // I breathe, and I am crippled I speak and gasp for mercy but you shove knives down my throat I gulp, I gulp, I gulp they sink into my lungs; I breathe, I breathe, I breathe they come back out my mouth // Wherever my eyes may wander wherever my fingers cling nothing to grab, no one to hold on to I am fine, and I am happy but I’m choking and can’t prove it I’m crying, convinced its joy // In love and desperate for eternity if you leave I’ll walk the earth with tired bones and heartbeats knocking on my chest, pleading to be fed I’ll starve my heart to death I’ll never love again
a thought
I’ve been thinking a lot about how often I suppress myself when it comes to defending in what I believe in, i.e. gender equality, human rights, equality for all races, etc. I’ll speak up, softly, ending with ‘but you know me, raging feminist, haha, sorry!’.
I’m not sorry. I am not going to apologise anymore for standing up for what’s right. I’ve let too much slide for too long, forgiving people and making up excuses for their ignorance. It’s time to be ruthless, and it’s time to educate those who are unaware. No more apologising, except one last apology to myself for feeling like I’m ‘too much’ for being nauseated by misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism, ageism, and ignorant prejudice towards anything that doesn’t fit in the white Christian heteronormative box we put the world in.
you wander aimlessly, looking for shelter in broken rooftops and battered driveways. you will find a home within yourself before you find it in others.
Noor Shirazie (via noorshirazie)
I never gave the time of day to thoughts of being hurt by you, to thoughts of being taken apart - and now all the love and good in me, burnt like a witch at the stake - I'm left with an insecure smile, hair weighing me down, our bed hard as a rock, my ring digging into my finger, the painting above my head mocking me. You don't smell like home anymore.
S. Srna
I want to run away sometimes, not from home but to home. Back to cracked roads, and unfinished houses - I want to kiss on the bridge Franz and Sophia died on. I want to sneak into cathedrals, stare into the lights and colors; envying a God that isn’t mine. I want to lean on Austro-Hungarian walls while Egyptian ice cream gives me brain freeze. I want espresso 10 times a day, crepes at midnight beside eternal flames, and book stores, kissing couples and laughing friends. I want the passion, the love, the constant music of the city. Kept safe by the mountains, thirst quenched with rivers, put to sleep only on a Monday - even then still slightly dancing to the hum of Sunday’s song.
Sarajevo S. Srna (via bervex)
I am struggling with my sudden coming of age - burdened by responsibility; dirty dishes and dirty laundry, vegan take-out while last week’s groceries rot untouched, dusty television stands and a hungry husband. I am struggling with my sudden realization that I’ve lost myself in setting alarms for 4:30 in the morning, and sitting in 5:00 o'clock traffic on my way back home. Guitar collecting dust, journal pages unwritten, voice lost after answering telephones for a living. I am struggling with this life -I chose it myself, but sometimes I wonder. I really do.
S. Srna (via bervex)
