Oh, how punk

Or we could fade out

[inneroptics]

RUTH THORNE-THOMSEN - Time is Longer than a Rope.

[shisasan]

𝙵𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟷, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟸 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[ID: February 1. Nothing, merely tired. END ID]

[retropopcult]

“New York City views. Wholesale market in lower Manhattan”, photographed February 1934.

[remanence-of-love]

[fairycosmos]

sorry for documenting my suffering and delusions online do you still think im hot

[vampurrring]

Maybe if I was prettier. Or maybe if I was more horrifying actually

[heavensghost]

from one of my unfinished poems

[remanence-of-love]

[feral-ballad]

Claire C. Holland, from I Am Not Your Final Girl: Poems; “Jess”

[Text ID: “I can’t exist in a way that comforts you.”]

[feral-ballad]

Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak; “The way I was taught to love”

[Text ID: “Half daughter, / half apology, all fire and the wrong kind of love.”]

[leonardospoetry]

Strength is light ☀

[geryone]

Pink, Sylvie Baumgartel

[lone-nyctophile]

- Beau Taplin

[metamorphesque]

― Salma Deera, Letters From Medea

[text ID: The centre of every poem is this: / I have loved you. / I have had to deal with that.]

[feral-ballad]

Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak; “What I couldn’t explain via text”

[Text ID: “I still don’t know how / to love someone / without swallowing them.”]

[heavensghost]

from Autopsy by Donte Collins

[feral-ballad]

Blythe Baird, from If My Body Could Speak; “Eat”

[Text ID: “I am trying to stop doing / things that don’t make any sense. Body, / forgive me. I am trying. I am trying. I am still trying.]