somedays all I do is watch the sky @hallengoats-blog - Tumblr Blog

I’m going to a punk rock show tomorrow and I haven’t tried to look punk rock since about tenth grade help what do I wear

#punk rock #i'm too old for this

Guinness ate my film, and I am super into it.

#film #photography #Alternative Process #alt process photography #nashville

Aaaaaaannnnndddd another!

#poem #poetry #poems #photography #poemses

Trying these out again.

#poetry #poem #poems #dublin #ireland

I’m trying out a new way of combining my poetry and photography. Not sure I’m a fan of my handwriting in this. Feedback is welcome and encouraged!

#poetry #poems #poemses #poem

Today while driving with a pretty boy I puked in a bag that immediately leaked all over me and he STILL texted me later to say he had fun with me so I must be really, really charming in the spaces between puking in bags.

#embarrassing

Practicing some self-love with natural hair, today.

I can’t tell if it’s cute or if I look like a lion.

Because I feel like a lion.

#self love #redhead #curls #natural curls

December 2

You pressed flowers through summer because you hated goodbyes, crushed thistles and morning glories

beneath stacks of encyclopedias in the cob-webbed corner of your garage, and when your father left that winter

you peeled dried petals one-by-one from their thirsty stalks, scattered them like ashes

into the coughing dryness of your dead-end road.

#i must have been wine drunk when I wrote this because I forgot all about it #poetry #poem #poems #poemses

My birthday started off with a text from my dad using his wife’s phone, simply informing me that his phone was broken, so you’d think the day could only go uphill from there...

#it didn't

December 1st

#poemcember #poemses #poetry #poem #love poem #poems

Feeling like a human trash bag lately.

The first guy to ever sexually assault me just added me on LinkedIn.

What a time we live in.

November 22 (16/30)

Drunk at Lake Michigan, 2012

An all-night diner’s neon lights sprawled across the beach beside our half-buried toes, faintly illuminating cherry pits we spit and planted into damp sand.

We sacrificed everything we loved or regretted to the pulsing waves, our stumbling confessions swallowed into lapping blackness or regurgitated along the bank into wind-dried dunes and tall grass.

Home always tasted bitter like driftwood, sweet like the saltless air we packed into boxes when we moved away.

Now, in a city wrapped in rivers we feel landlocked, lost as parking lot seagulls who sob into trash bins and wonder when the burning cement will thaw.

#poemses #poetry #poem #poems #poemvember

I don’t remember where I took this or what I soaked the film in, but still this photo is part of my collection and memory is a strange, flimsy thing.

#film #damaged film #alt photography #photography

November 20

My grandmother died the same year the city demolished the paper mill whose pungent musk wound its way through my childhood—

seeping through curtained windows of a bedroom painted pale yellow, catching in piles of acorns my sisters collected, my grandfather mowing the lawn out back.

People crowded the streets to see the building implode. Century-old cement buckled from within, and as it fell, they praised it for crumbling toward the sea.

#poemses #poetry #poem #poems

November 19 (15/30)

You never grew accustomed to the cold and the way it took you by the shoulders and shook no matter how tightly you wound your bones with muscles and skin, wrapped yourself in cotton and wool and two decades of practice, how firmly you laced your boots and braced for the betrayal of a sky who loved you through summer then left you with its bitterest snow vengefully clawing your windows. You never grew accustomed to the cold no matter how many times he left. Some nights his silence shook you by the shoulders, others his midnight apologies stung your insomnia. Even when spring thawed the frost from the windows into puddles glistening with forgetfulness, still you carried his winters, sharp and biting, on your tongue.

#poemses #poetry #poem #poems #love poem

November 21 (14/30)

The rabbit with arms and legs like a man kneels in a forest whose leaves clutter your hair. He tells you of a dream where we no longer speak, where my memory sleeps between blankets and we tiptoe around the past, afraid to wake it. Everything moves more quickly in spring. We climb between branches of cardboard trees, capture the smoothest stones for our pockets. You pull wisps of clouds from the sky to strum like the strings of a harp. When the sun slips away to hide its face in the hills, we drift beside the swift river of our carelessness, the rabbit with longs limbs like a man pressing his head to the dirt.

#poemses #poem #poetry #poems

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somedays all I do is watch the sky