glitchy oracle @glitch-with-hexedlegs - Tumblr Blog

if my skeleton is wet 24/7, does that mean that it low-key washes itself? Like my joints rubbing into each other is just my skeleton scrubbing off the dirt???

#anatomy #skeleton #chaotic academia #b.s. writes #marina abramovic #just girly thoughts #juicy body

angell-of-filth

deadstonia

sometimes i feel like i’m offering tea to ghosts.

except the ghosts are my organs:

mr Lung, your basil tea is ready.

sir Brain, your black tea — just the way you like it.

miss Tummy, careful with the hibiscus peppermint. i know you're excited.

fingers covered in charcoal dust

3 pencils behind my ear

purple, the sun, and blue

the kind of Sunday that wears

yesterday's rain as an expensive perfume

.UNFOLD.

no urgency in its breath.

peaceful in its obnoxious perfection -

just a haze of colours and laughter

loud in our quiet way

grounding

grinding coffee

beans, spills

coffee rings on a dirty silver tray

'draw me on a napkin'

we fail, 'a holy girl in a hallway;

so I, gently,

kiss his collarbone

in return,

he kisses my hair

i adorn my walls with his napkin portraits.

the night tastes like

maybe the whole world could fit

between his shoulder

and my cheek.

- b.s. (original poetry)

0:00

two people in love

on a not-Sunday

pretending time isn't real.

sleepy eyes, къде съм аз?

cradled by his scent

'you smell like ink and dreams'

"you smell of ego and last night's chamomile tea"

***obnoxiously perfect***

time is optional with him

"i am new; i can't compare to those histories"

a softness in his smile

'new in time; not in feeling or in depth'

makes me land with grace

he stares, decides:

'is this cliff worth stepping off of?'

"take your time, I'll stay soft,"

I reply.

the weight of everything we've danced around

(it) changes the way sounds move through the room

'you make me want to hand you the whole illusion,

and watch you turn it into something real.'

"then kiss my hand like you're thanking the very bones in my fingers

for letting art and magic pass through them."

now - a golden blur of a love that finally has a name.

I kiss the base of his neck

once.

to feel him breathe it in

just

BREATH and VIBRATION.

- b.s. (original poetry)

the colour of the sky (solo piano) song

feels like longing

curled next to the window

under a blanket

wrapped around a steaming mug of tea

like waiting,

patiently yearning,

a limbo...

i can just watch the rain drops choose to land on my window

i cannot touch them yet

but I can see their blurry silhouettes

as they quickly slip away.

- b.s. (original poetry)

the warmth the world can't give you in winter, you search for in the heart of the city

- b.s.

"I think your laughter used to live in my ribs before I was born."

I dreamed I was a tree. Many many times. My roots were singing. Were they mine? I think they might've been yours - your laughter living in my ribcage. I will set it free. Please, let me return it home. (= please let me make you laugh)

keep the napkin. I want/need you to remember the sound of my ribs. Read the language between our bones. It'll tell you what I lack the motion for. Speak it out loud - Our Quiet poetry - like you're not afraid of the silence that follows.