Brooklyn Olivia Fahey

Interdisciplinary Artist writer, musician, artist, actress "i’m the ocean, were it a labyrinth; a doorless room with seven windows.” 222 W 23rd St, New York, NY 10011

[jaywritesandwrites]

[brooklynofahey]

"the fuller the supermarket shelves the denser the trashcan. if the beer’s still brewing in the bottle it is bound to spill right over. but that is hard, right? to gift ourselves an appropriate amount of less."

— brooklyn o'fahey, "the aesthetics of impermanence."

[brooklynofahey]

haiku

i have never been a people-pleaser but if it'd please you, i could

— brooklyn o'fahey, "please."

[brooklynofahey]

"to burn / my tenderness / i had to / drown the thought / of my / open mouth / on his lips"

— brooklyn o'fahey

[brooklynofahey]

"freedom is as much about leaving things behind as it is about not being chained."

james islington, "the strength of the few."

[brooklynofahey]

"he / had to be in love with her / no one was / as bold / destructive / and clarifyingly obscure / as her"

— brooklyn o'fahey

[brooklynofahey]

“perhaps she was glass. but glass is only brittle until it breaks.”

— v.e. schwab, "vengeful."

[brooklynofahey]

june 15th, 12:46pm

i ferment beneath ripe hope. the sun is half sky, warming my lemonade. it once warned me and i did not listen, for i am its cousin. you couldn't pay me to care. the caress of summer, once again, thickens the lining in my throat. the cough invites a stutter, as the bull of my temperament spots a crimson blanket wind-struck on the ledge of a balcony. red blotches appear alongside my palm. i want to knock on the porch door of an open house and ask if there is any toilet paper in the basement. i look up at the clouds, send love letters to a mailboxless moon and sulk about not being written back. he etches his hips with that borrowed light and as i once muttered: when is there an end to the change of you? when is the laundry on the rusting fishline finally relieved of its chronic wetness? i am perplexed at where you want to go. if the horizon does not suffice, i fear i cannot offer you a second one

[brooklynofahey]

"not even the heart can beat the way it longs to. if not systemised, there is no disciplined throb feeding fingertips red water."

— brooklyn o'fahey, "the aesthetics of impermanence."

[brooklynofahey]

"you told me, “you are a lazy poet with a heart of silver.” maybe you were right. the mind is my prison and i am yours."

— brooklyn o'fahey, "the aesthetics of impermanence."

[brooklynofahey]

"love / twisted around her tightly / like a burn / traveling from / the face / to the eye / a lightning / she tried to / survive" — brooklyn o'fahey

[brooklynofahey]

"If I am dumb beside your body while silence blossoms like tumours on our lips it is because I hear a man climb the stairs and clear his throat outside the door."

— leonard cohen, "let us compare mythologies."

[brooklynofahey]

The address on your profile isn’t legit.

it is! haha, try it

[brooklynofahey]

"you bled / so meticulously / it seemed / death was / an imagined embarrassment / to you."

— brooklyn o'fahey, "fck"

[brooklynofahey]

what’s the story morning glory?

weeeeelllll

just wanted to come on here and say hi, put a face to the words and art

have a good day besties

[brooklynofahey]

"Life's a child's toy in the sand."

— Fernando Pessoa, "the book of disquiet."

[brooklynofahey]

7th of june, 4:17pm, 2026

i tend to pollute my heart with a myriad of ideas suppose the most restoring salve appears a plee of "no" to me

amidst the pyramids of grief the sap of a waterless heart becomes the crimson that bleeds onto sepia green thought

feed me a matted hue where sparse belief rings true foresee it'll come onto you when you do me in like you do

would you enjoy a slice of reality alongside your cup of rainwater? i attempt to be ok but you want so much more for me