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sideblog to jokethur. roleplay blogs do not interact. find your own aesthetic.

[lifeinpoetry]

“let my love be a wolf. / i’ll lay my head on a bed of her teeth.”

— José Olivarez, from “I Wake in a Field of Wolves with the Moon,” published in The Shallow Ends

[lafugguzaf]

[yuyuuyuyuu-deactivated20230726]

mental health on zero but at least i’m sexy

[unsuresuggestion]

you can’t relate to me, shut up

[89words]

“Heart on fire, ashes everywhere — there’s no return from a red like that.”

— Manuel de Freitas, from “Fado Menor”, translated by Richard Zenith 

[vefasizim]

[thetwistedrope]

“A traumatized child becomes desperate to relieve the anxiety and depression of abandonment. The critic-driven child can only think about the ways they are too much or not enough. The child’s unfolding sense of self (the healthy ego) finds no room to develop. Their identity virtually becomes the critic. The superego trumps the ego. In this process, the critic becomes increasingly virulent and eventually switches from the parents’ internalized voice: “You’re bad” to the first person: “I’m bad”. This is unlike the soldier in combat who does not develop a toxic critic. This process whereby the superego becomes carcinogenic is a key juncture where ptsd morphs into cptsd.”

— Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving, Pete Walker pg168-169

[iwashandpicked]

*my girl yelling at me*

me: *wildly turned on*

[13fingers]

i think i’m in love with you,, have a nice day

You are nothing to me. I won’t

[gothicprep]

no offense but I’ve never gotten over anything that’s happened to me in my life

[itsloriel]

[holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe]

Call it love that I need to eat you? That’s no good, it’s still fated, fearful But love is too.

Certain Magical Acts, Alice Notley (via decreation)

[lifeinpoetry]

I will crawl to you across this burning parking     lot of a city, lick your body new again like my tongue is God’s hand trying to erase and recreate the earth.

Sierra DeMulder, from “When the Apocalypse Comes,” The Bones Below (via lifeinpoetry)

[luthienne]

“…god, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.”

— Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[feral-ballad]

I thought I was approaching her speedily, but found that I had approached only my ruin.

Ilya Abu Madi, tr. Issa Boullata and Naomi Shihab Nye, from Modern Arabic Poetry: an anthology; “The Phoenix”

[weltenwellen]

“Where I went, no one could follow. Yet someone managed to hold my hand.”

— John Banville

[xshayarsha]

“l sobbed so hard my ribs were breaking; l ran through the fire, having won everything and lost everything at the same hour.”

— Hélène Cixous, from Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing.