this blog is an archive and boris is now at @borispavsky :)

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if i look back, i am lost
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cherry valley forever

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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@borispavsky-arc
this blog is an archive and boris is now at @borispavsky :)
this blog is an archive and boris is now at @borispavsky :)
saint petersburg. russia. 2018.
‶ you want a better story, who wouldn't? ″ / @pennyproud
who wouldn’t? maybe she was on to something. though you would be hard pressed to believe that everyone would consider a different path in life. would a millionaire wish to be poor? probably not. but still, you indulge. knew well enough that you held envy for those around you that had more than you did. had homes with parents who provided love instead of terror. had a quality education where you had nothing more than half a year of ninth grade. lips curved a smile, a playful nudge delivered to her arm; seated next to her on log in the woods. a quiet place to come to think, to smoke, to drink -- and the odd occasion, target practice.
‶ sometimes i think it would be nice but i don’t think i would be as interesting, ″ flask rose to lips, taking a drink and passing it her way. ‶ i have been many place, know many language. i have problems, yes? but it is different. do you wish you had better story? ″
rentun·
‘ the past devours those naïve enough to forget it. ’ @borispavsky
‘ does it now? ’ ( ah nod idly, give an inane smile tae the guy from the floor. somethin about laying down here that’s more comfortable than sittin on ma arse on a seat even if it makes ma back ache like fuck aftir a while goes by. true contentment nevir wis fir me. if ah did decide to throw maself into english academia, ah’d almost let there be a direct comparison tae the company ah keep. ah like boris, ah do; from what ah’ve gathered, full oaf useless garbage wi nuggets of gold buried in to keep yir hopes up. thit’s no a bad word on the guy: ah like listening. somethin tae do tae keep the mind busy from the mindnumbin everyday ah feel more subjected to than anythin else (ah’m sure thit is no revolutionary opinion but ah feel maself fall victim to it more an more as the day tae day passes). a wee headache from thinkin in roundabouts tae keep up wi a walkin philosophical podcaster is good for me, keeps me on ma toes. )
‘ an if ah fell an knocked ma head, lost all sense oaf maself, wid ya call that naïveté or wid yis let us off on account of the present amnesia? ’ ( ah barely have a clue whit am oan about. ah roll on my side an look at boris, see if he can make heads or tails. ah feel like an interviewee thit’s snuck his way ontae set. )
‶ think so, yes. life, yea? chews you up and spits you out. ″ didn’t you know it. perhaps it was on account of the way you’d grown up. knew how to get drunk before you knew how to read. if the nature or nurture argument were to arise, you were the poster child for the nurture argument. a pure product of your environment. maybe you’d even argue that you were too far gone, years of toxicity molding the mind of impressionable youth and creating something chaotic. even know, cigarette lay rest between lip, liquor bottles claim their rightful spot on the floor around them. for a moment, gaze settles on renton’s body sprawled upon the floor. your legs are crossed, back pressed against the wall.
‶ i guess it can be that way. amnesia, yea? you and i, we are too aware. i do not think there is a speck of naivety in us. ″
snovak·
𝖎. ⋆ ☻ , @BORISPAVSKY· ╸ boris pavlikovsky : ❝ i think that you might be the same as me. ❞
⭑ ❝ oh. ❞ ( DEAR DIARY , i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing anymore. all i know is that shit is getting weird. if i don’t know know what the hell happening in my own life , what do i even have you for , at this point ? ) * SHE SUBMITS TO THE INNATE; gives her best impression of a smile — through which her dry , deadpan disposition shines. sydney allows tender declaration to settle & permeate within the quiet. there’s too much delicacy concerning the notion of oneness & she cannot stomach the burden of its nuance.
the young wretch gives a tentative nod , ❝ okay. ❞
* ❝ IN LIKE … a good way or a bad way ? or … ? ❞
there’s a slight rise and fall of shoulders ; passive shrug. it was a thought that was fleeting, one that came and went with the drop of a hat. you weren’t entirely sure what you meant of it. i think you might be the same as me. hot headed and emotional? troubled and lost? you’d never voice that, it wasn’t exactly a compliment now, was it? liquored tongue licks lips, eyes focused on the sky above ; laying upon the ground and wishing for a moment that the earth would open and swallow you whole. you wouldn’t mind it. there had to be some form of comfort in the thought of death.
‶ suppose it depends, yea? hard to say. would that be such a bad thing? ″ yes, it probably would be. teenage addict with attachment and anger problems. you were anything but a role model. anything but someone that people would look up too. some laughter slips through slightly parted lips, head shaking from side to side ; hand soon reaching into pocket to retrieve rolled joint. placing it between lips, cheap lighter sparking to life.
a sharp inhale soon follows a lengthy exhale mere moments later. eyes never left sight of the sky above. ‶ maybe it is both. ″
@snovak·
⋆ * the disintegration a glaring barricade aproaches as her back is turned: similarity in stature and shape means nothing , it seems. he’d gathered her up so effortlessly — as though she bore no weight at all. inebriation makes her mind slow to ascertain their closeness; the proximity of slavic tongue induces uneasiness and rage. not even stanley barber had ever been so audacious. fervid pulse thwacks against the sharp , protruding bones of her back.
* ( i refuse to be this demure , emotional being that everyone thinks they can coax out of me. i couldn’t pretend if i wanted to. i know how this shit goes: everyone wants to tiptoe around pandora’s box until they see what’s inside. well , tough shit. i’m not in the mood for acknowledging the gut - wrenching ugliness of sentimentality and affection , and i never will be. the box is locked. and the key ? tossed to the dregs. good luck to the loser that goes looking. )
hot - blooded , sydney’s breath shallows and she wills herself to speak , * ❛ — what the fuck are you doing ? ❜
if there was ever one thing you lacked clarity on - it was boundaries. your hands wound around her and brought her closer as if she were a ragged doll that needed collecting. you’d spoke better with actions than you ever did with words. often sputtering out words to string together sentences in a language you were still learning. hoping and praying they made sense. there was more said in movements, looks and touches than you could possibly verbalize. though it seemed to be met with something other than what you’d expected. the tension grew, it oozed from her ; consumed you.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? eyes blink, soon staring wide eyed at the wall across from you. [ how could you explain to her the ways in which you hurt? the drive behind your fear? your jealousy? ]
instantly you release her, allowing her to slide from your arms just as easily as you’d first grabbed her. as if she were weightless.
‶ i was trying to -- forget it. ″ stomach turns and chest tightens, it’s as if the very air you breathe is fading. slinking back, away from her; feet swing to rest on the floor as if you’re preparing yourself to run to an exit. preserving self in any situation. always running instead of speaking. always leaving first before they could leave you.
redheid·
ah carry maself in waves till ah topple down in a graceful kind of way. ah sink and ah sink and ah sink and sink and sink until ah’m warm and wonder why ah huvnae done this in such a long time. barry fucking company boris is and ah’m glad tae have found him; he’s as grim feeling and easy going aboot it as ah need tae be around. as a rule ah keep thit shit in for tension of the room’s sake, normally ah’m peachy fucking keen, but boris and the music and the everything else reads as good of a kirkyard as ah can find for the thoughts ah’m no even sure are more than tippling invented things that dinnae half mean anything to let loose. tell me we’re dead and ah’ll love you even more, ah’ll be abso-fucking-lutely giddy wi the prospect if this is whit it feels like when the curtain finally hits the floor.
ma train of thought gets broken and ah get lost in it.sorry fucking bastards: ah giggle when he rolls back over. fucking giggle and stare at him like ah really am dead, lying there refusing tae acknowledge ah do in fact have full autonomy over ma body. ma cheek stays warm when his hand drifts back away from me and goes for a fag: ah watch as he lights it, when he inhales, and the gawking pair dinnae dare stray when he keeps on talking.
‘ give us that, ’ ah say, reclaim ma voice and my ain movements, reach ma hand oot for the smoke in his. ‘ you’re so gobby. ’
you’d always been this. intoxicated the moment you’d left the womb. vodka bottles replaced sip cups and suddenly anything that meant happiness and contentment became something you could purchase for the right price. synthetic and chemically bred. you’d seen stars inside that were brighter than the ones outside. renton’s words flowed like a river and you were preparing to drown. tie and anchor to your foot and let yourself stay there with the fish. tell me we’re dead and i’ll love you even more. even the things you loved would soon die -- or already had. it’s almost as if you can hear your mothers laughter overlaying the iggy pop record in the background. dead as could be, buried somewhere that you never knew. you could feel renton’s eyes burning into you, as if you were a painting in a museum that was left on display for all to see. you didn’t mind. the burn felt nice.
cigarette finds place between lips, inhaling sharply and exhaling a moment later with a boisterous laugh. ‶ gobby? you say strange thing sometimes. ya nikogda ne ponimayu. ″ [ eng. i never understand ]. inebriated tongue slung foreign words easier than that of english ; each word accent thick and heavy. slavic boy passes cigarette to companion at his side, grinning. ‶ you think this kill us faster? ″
‶ what do you think, eh? you think death is more like flash of light and warmth or cold and empty? ″ what would await you, reckless boy, other than a cold grave with rotted flowers?
goodfelow·
@borispavsky· said : if you want to go back, that’s fine with me.
❝ no . . . ❞ stubborn streak a mile wide, even as the feeling in his fingers starts to fade, breath escaping in sharp gasps that linger in the air like smoke ( ten below in nothing but a warn duffle coat and sweater, no scarf nor hat. attire insane in weather saner than this. ) and yet feet continue to fall, converse squeaking through the snow as he trails a few feet behind black - clad boy.
alone in the woods . . . alone in the woods with a near stranger, sights set for destination unknown. ( carpe diem, seize the day – mr . keating would be proud. ) and yet he pauses, frozen hands raising to wind - whipped cheeks, a futile effort. ❝ where are we going, anyways ? ❞
boots stomp through snow with ease, hearing it crunch beneath each step ; a sense of satisfaction. pink colour fills wind blown cheeks. you’re a few feet away from the other boy - one who left sour feelings brewing in your gut. a boy that had jealous rage through you. but you swore that you’d try. swore that you’d put work in. even if his question rose irritation.
‶ to the middle of woods, thought you would be ok with such. are you not always in woods? ″ coming upon a clearing, fallen logs form makeshift benches ; empty coffee tins sit in place - used for target practice. backpack slung off shoulder, resting against log. sitting down, slender hand reaches into bag, pulling out a glock. ‶ you shoot one of these before? ″
the goldfinch (2019)
‶ tell me we’re dead and i’ll love you even more. ″ / @redheid
you’re feeling sound and hearing colours ; the night sky hosts stars that seem more like planets of their own, melting into black abyss with vibrant colour from window view. scottish boy lay beside you in bedroom, darkened space with record playing in the background. something fitting for the occasion : ‘ i wanna be your dog ’ off of the stooges self titled album. [ now we’re gonna be face-to-face and i’ll lay right down in my favourite place. ] his words sound louder than they likely are , hitting your ears as if breaking the sound barriers. tell me we’re dead and i’ll love you even more. shifting ‘pon mattress, slavic boy observes him with a sense of amusement. an amusement fuelled with intoxicated intentions.
‶ we’re as dead as ever, rent. practically six feet under, isn’t that something? the world chewed us up and spat us out, the bastard. ″ accent thick words follow with laughter that rocks you, as you slink closer ; nudging him playfully. a boundary to cross and you were bound to cross it. knuckle bruised hand reaches forward to grasp his face, pulling it flush to yours. lips met his for a kiss that felt like an eternity but lasted mere moments; rolling over to lay upon back, reaching into pocket for pack of cigarettes. slipping one between lips, gas-station lighter sparks to life, singeing the end of cigarette which soon follows an inhale.
‶ you love me even more, ha! what sorry bastards we are. right back at you, friend. ″
snovak·
⋆ * shame begets the blood that pools in her cheeks; she wills lovelocks to shroud her face to conceal its cherry - moon state. lithe figure curls in on herself; throw pillow cradled in her lap, tongue presses ‘gainst the roof of cotton mouth. ( 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 , my hands are shaking so bad right now. i just upchucked hot wings and beer in the bathroom and even now it feels like my stomach’s gonna plummet. fuck me , right ? ) * ❛ i don’t get why you keep trying to make me feel shitty about it. ❜ sydney has long been resigned to such beration , though it does little to mitigate the sting. her mother , dina , stanley , and now boris. the cluttered intimacy of her bedroom seemed the perfect setting to divulge her newborn guilty pleasure , though now it seems the ideal environment to hearten the likes of conflict. ❛ … i don’t get why you give a shit at all. ❜
* * ( boris really did a number on me today. he’s been acting weird lately , pissing me off , making me wanna throw heavy objects at him. but he’s just freaking me out now. trying to talk about his fucking feelings. it’s not like i can just come out and say, ‘ this isn’t some stupid fucking dr. phil special , ’ cause he’s my friend and all. i swear to god , it seemed like he was gonna cry a couple of times. shed actual tears. i told him he sounded like a crybaby — and even then , it seemed like he was gonna start boo - hoo - ing right there. it makes me wanna pretend like i don’t know him for a couple weeks , just to feel sane. just to breathe. i’m not cut out for this stuff. i’m really not. ) sydney turns away from him , furled on her side; fingernails delve into polyester flesh.
❛ what do ‘ WE ’ like , anyway ? we’re not special. ❜
IT SHOULDN’T FUCKING MATTER. by logic you followed, nothing should. life is full of disappointment and we are born and simply die - everything in the middle is up for us to decide. does it matter or does it not? with every fibre of your being , you wanted to say it didn’t matter. wanted to act like you weren’t jealous of some guy. some guy. a guy who was everything that you weren’t. someone that was educated by way of book and not of street. that had a family. [ that seemed so well put together while you were regularly falling apart and stitching yourself back together with thinning threads. ] you’d regularly lost every good thing that stepped in, what kept this from being the same? questions hit you , why did you care? why do you care? was it not enough just to have her around?
it’s not long until she’s turning away from you, frustration looms in the pit of your stomach. eyes settle in on her back, observe the way body shifted with each breath.
‶ sydney - c’mon, ″ a pause, weight shifting on mattress to face her despite her current state. legs cross and arm out stretches, encasing around her and dragging her closer to you. ‶ i’m not trying to do that, eh? i’m just worried. ″ more like jealous. envious. lips pursed, brows furrowed. it’s followed by a sharp exhale of air. heart pounding in chest which only tightened with each passing moment.
‶ nobody is special. everything is bullshit. i just mean does he do the stuff we do? ″
laugh: for your muse to laugh at something mine did. // @subterraenean
music booms over loud speaker , another house party of a person who’s name you didn’t collect. it didn’t matter anyway, as if you’d be deviating from the people you spoke to anyway. standing further away, a wallflower amongst a rowdy crowd ; the warmth of liquor encases your throat and soothes your insides , throwing it back as if it were water. second nature. russianette at your side is pulled closer , arm around her as hand settles in back pocket. the two of you swap words, slavic tongue moving in fluency - the pair of you spilling secrets and gossip that none other would understand.
amusement sets in and with it soon follows laughter only loud enough for her to hear. ‶ eto bylo khorosho. deystvitel'no smeshno, yesli vy sprosite menya. ty khochesh' vybrat'sya otsyuda? ″ [ eng. that was a good one. truly ridiculous if you ask me. you want to get out of here? ]
‶ i like him and i want to be like him. ″ / @snovak
it strikes you like a punch to the gut , unsettling storm brewing and growing - a fight or flight response. is it sense of abandonment or jealousy? it wasn’t as if you’d admit the latter to yourself. a misunderstand sense of jealousy that outwore it’s welcome - misplaced. ‶ who, neil? ″ brow rose, forehead creasing ; perplexed. it wasn’t as if you’d had the best track record, friends came and went, some by changed circumstances and some at your own hand. never clear boundaries often made way to unforeseen heartbreak of not just you but the others you left in your wake .
‶ you like him? why? ″ she liked you, didn’t she? maybe that was worth asking that too. falsehood of confidence would tell you it made sense she did , would tell you that you were something greater than you were. but you’d know otherwise. you’d always lack consistency, always lack selflessness, lack vulnerability and on occasion, honesty. you’d never quite learned how to plant roots in one place and flourish , you would always be bloodied knuckles, empty liquor bottles and airplane tickets. always leaving before someone could leave you. there was a sense of self preservation if it was on your own terms. how long before you’d lose her too?
‶ why do you want to be like him, anyway? you’re cool anyway, does he even like the things we like? ″
word prompts compilation
complies THIS MEME // THIS MEME // THIS MEME
ADD ++ FOR REVERSE
[ attention ] for your muse to touch mine as a way of getting their attention
[ wake ] for your muse to wake mine
[ cover ] for your muse to cover mine with a blanket or a jacket
[ lift ] for your muse to give mine a hand stepping up or over something etc.
[ kiss ] for your muse to come up to mine and kiss them without warning
[ run ] for your muse to run their fingers through mine’s hair
[ braid ] for your muse to braid mine’s hair
[ embrace ] for your muse to hold mine
[ smile ] for your muse to smile at mine from across the room
[ wave ] for your muse to gesture to mine to come closer
[ panic ] for your muse to grab mine’s arm or get behind them in a moment of danger
[ touch ] for your muse to rest their forehead against mine’s
[ weep ] for your muse to catch mine crying
[ eat ] for your muse to offer mine food
[ hit ] for your muse to attack mine
[ love ] for your muse to touch mine as a show of affection or reassurance
[ nap ] for your muse to fall asleep against mine
[ rest ] for your muse to rest their head in mine’s lap
[ look ] for your muse to catch mine staring
[ seduce ] for your muse to touch mine sexually
[ help ] for your muse to lean on mine for support
[ give ] for your muse to offer mine their arm
[ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand
[ laugh ] for your muse to laugh at something mine did
[ dance ] for your muse to dance with mine
[ sit ] for your muse to pull mine into their lap
[ yell ] for your muse to calm mine down
[ cry ] for your muse to wipe mine’s tears away
[ dream ] for my muse to share dream with yours
[ nightmare ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare
[ surprise ] for your muse to show up at mine’s house without explanation
[ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury
[ sacrifice ] for your muse to get hurt protecting mine
[ guard ] for your muse to step between my muse and danger
[ taste ] for your muse to cook for mine
[ sing ] for your muse to sing to mine
[ goodbye ] for my muse kissing and/or hugging your muse goodbye
[ secrets ] my muse sharing/confiding a secret
[ bloody ] for your muse coming to my muse with blood stains
[ drunk ] your muse takes care of my very drunk muse
[ bed ] my muse wakes up in the same bed as your muse with little recollection of the night before
[ scream ] my muse hears your muse scream and runs to them
[ trail ] my muse watches as your muse traces one of my muses scars, asking them about it
[ piggyback ] my muse gives yours a piggyback ride
[ jump ] my muse holding yours up by their thighs
[ carry ] my muse carries your muse to their house
[ lighter ] my muse pulls out a lighter and lights it for your muse to use to light their cigarette
[ shot ] my muse gets shot and struggles to your muses for aid
[ wound ] my muse patches and bandages a wound your muse has gotten
[ fight ] my muse stops your muse from getting into a physical fight with someone else
[ arrest ] your muse finds my muse arrested in cuffs
[ hospital ] my muse awakens in a hospital, finding your muse by their side, asking what happened
[ betrayal ] my muse finds out that your muse has betrayed them and confronts them about it
[ nude ] my muse walks in on your muse accidentally seeing them naked
[ karaoke ] for our muses to sing together
[ wet ] your muse strips down to their under garments and runs into the water, motioning for my muse to join them
[ crawl ] for your muse to crawl into bed with mine .
[ flower ] for your muse to offer my muse their favourite flower
[ gift ] for my muse to surprise your muse with a gift
[ homemade gift ] for my muse to make your muse a gift
[ bestow ] for your muse to give my muse a gift, bought or handmade ( bonus if you add what it is )
[ serenade ] for my muse to sing to your muse
[ caress ] for your muse to gently run their hand down my muse’s face
[ caught ] for your muse to catch my muse wearing their shirt .
[ love letter ] for your muse to give my muse a love letter they wrote for them
[ boop ] for your muse to boop my muse on the nose
[ date ] for my muse to ask your muse to go on a date
[ confess ] for my muse to confess their feelings to your muse
[ sleepy ] for my muse to slowly fall alseep on your muse
RICHARD SIKEN ‘CRUSH’ MEME
but he’s trying to kill you
your life is over anyway.
you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy.
tell me we’ll never get used to it.
it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio.
tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake.
there are so many things i’m not allowed to tell you.
the world is no longer mysterious.
it’s thinking of stabbing us to death.
i like him and i want to be like him.
someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure.
history repeats itself.
i wanted to take him home.
i was finding myself sleepless and he was running out of lullabies.
there isn’t anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, a bottle of pills.
i’d like my money’s worth.
sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine.
i wore his jacket for the longest time.
i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything.
tell me we’re dead and i’ll love you even more.
who am i? i’m just a writer. i write things down.
you want a better story, who wouldn’t?
quit milling around the yard and come inside.
and no one can ever figure out what you want and you won’t tell them.
you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.
you take the things you love and tear them apart.
i said kiss me here and here and here and you did.
these are the dreams we should be having.
i don’t think i can take this much longer.
i carried you to the car and drove you home but you weren’t making any sense.
i went to the riverbed to wait for you to show up. you didn’t show up. i kept waiting.
you want to die for love, you always have.
you’re going to die in your best friend’s arms.
someone’s pulling a gun and you’re jumping in the middle of it.
if you love me, you don’t love me in a way i understand.
there’s a bottle of whiskey in the trunk of the chevy and a dead man at our feet.
please, just for one night, will you lie down next to me?
you say ‘i’ll give you anything’ but you never come through.
you keep singing along to the song i hate. stop singing.
you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.
you’re trying not to tell him that you love him.