Vielfraß
Will Will Will! Alles rein, nichts kommt an.
Hast du so riesige Mäuler, aufgestülpt wie von Walhaien, damit aus dem Ozean des An-Dir-Vorbei dich wenigstens etwas nährt? Denn Wenn alle Münder zu sind, weiß er genau, was er will.
2022
Mike Driver
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
art blog(derogatory)

pixel skylines

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Xuebing Du
tumblr dot com

titsay
trying on a metaphor
KIROKAZE
will byers stan first human second
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blake kathryn
YOU ARE THE REASON

#extradirty

JVL
Monterey Bay Aquarium
sheepfilms

Kaledo Art
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seen from Singapore
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@luridshards
Vielfraß
Will Will Will! Alles rein, nichts kommt an.
Hast du so riesige Mäuler, aufgestülpt wie von Walhaien, damit aus dem Ozean des An-Dir-Vorbei dich wenigstens etwas nährt? Denn Wenn alle Münder zu sind, weiß er genau, was er will.
2022
Vater
Ich sehe, dass du und ich auseinander sitzen wie zwei Fremde an der gleichen Bar, in ihr eigenes Getränk vertieft, in ihre eigene Welt und ihren eigenen Schmerz, zu voll, um andere hinein zu lassen, zu voll um sich zu trauen zu teilen. Entzweit durch die Länge einer Tischplatte und die schwelenden Konflikte. Und da sitzen wir, wie zwei Fremde, die sich zuprosten. Zum Geburtstag, zu Weihnachten, zum neuen Jahr, zu einem guten Essen. Und einander nicht berühren. Weil der eine sich nicht traut. Weil der andere es nicht will. Entzweit.
2023
Wolfsfrau
Du wilde Schöne, in Deines Tanzes Mitte steht unverhohlen Deine Ungezähmheit Dein unverkennbares Du das jeder Einfluss Angriff mimen lässt Du wilde Schöne Im Tanz mit Dir allein.
2021
I have a face that you don't know
one you never would expect.
I'm not secretly mean nor am I kind through & through
I am breathless under the weight of reading the room
I am anxious to the core about letting you down
or to fail your portrayal of who I am
or to fail your needs:
To disappoint.
2022
I fucking hate my fake face.
It's so hypocritical, perfectly playing that part I think is necessary in this job in these relationships in this society. Acting confident while using my mind to safe myself from being questioned, staying as neutral as can get, as small a target as possible, dodging everything, attack and gentle touch alike. You never know.
I am sick of that functional facade, sick of feeling as freakish, fat, unlovable as I did with fourteen.
“It is clear that you love Sacramento,” the nun says. “I guess I pay attention,” Lady Bird responds reluctantly.
“Don’t you think they’re the same thing? Love and attention?“
Vor mir lauert ein Jäger. _____________________ Vor mir kauert seine Beute.
(Spieglein, Spieglein an der Wand, wer ist mein größter Feind im Land?)
Ich wünschte Menschen könnten sich häuten. Wenigstens einmal alles Alte, Belastende, lange nicht mehr einen Sinn erfüllende von den Schultern fallen lassen und sich unbeschrieben fühlen. Aber man kann nicht aus seiner Haut.
Ich kann nie gut genug sein.Ich darf nie gut genug sein. Ich werde nie gut genug sein.
Du hast erreicht was du erreicht hast unter den Umständen, die deine Umwelt waren.
Nach dir habe ich es ja so viel besser und deine Grandiosität bleibt unberührbar. Unter deinen Umständen ist nicht replizierbar, schon gar nicht mit mir.
Du hältst mich klein.
Und gleichzeitig soll ich dich tragen. Denn auch im Leiden bist du grandios.
„Das musst du dir mal vorstellen...!“
Muss ich?
„Mir musst du das gar nicht sagen, das weiß ich ja am besten“
Darf ich nicht?
Ich soll nichts nach Außen geben und alles aufnehmen. Es ist sicherer geschlossen für alles zu sein. Nichts Herausgeben. Nichts Heranlassen.
Ihr seid die Umwelt, in der ich zu einem geschlossenen System herangewachsen bin. Autark. Von niemandem gehalten von niemandem berührt, so fest in mir selbst verwinkelt, dass ich mich selbst nicht lösen kann.
Erbe
Als ich dich hinter mir her ins Badezimmer zerrte, wusste ich, dass ich das Kind meiner Mutter war, versuchte mich durch Aggression über deine Bedürfnisse hinweg zu setzen mit dem gleichen Spott, der gleichen Wut und Kaltherzigkeit. Ich war mein Vater vor dem ich mich hinter der Tür versteckte, um dem unablässigen Redefluss zu entgehen der Wertlosigkeit tief in mich hinein schnitzte. Als ich meiner Worte scharfes Messer sinken ließ, dich in meine Kindesform gepresst blieb nur Scham.
I'm sick of you getting under my skin.
RIP to all those who didn’t make it to 2014. And to those that did; I’m so, so proud of you.
I didn’t even try to scroll past this
This is nice for people who did survive but very hard for those who were left behind by accident or by design. It hurts.
Do not fall in love With people like me. people like me will love you so hard that you turn into stone into a statue where people come to marvel at how long it must have taken to carve that faraway look into your eyes Do not fall in love with people like me we will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place so that you can never go back to them without tasting us like blood in your mouth Do not come any closer. people like me are bombs when our time is up we will splatter loss all over your walls in angry colors that make you wish your doorway never learned our name do not fall in love with people like me. with the lonely ones we will forget our own names if it means learning yours we will make you think hurricanes are gentle that pain is a gift you will get lost in the desperation in the longing for something that is always reaching but never able to hold do not fall in love with people like me. we will destroy your apartment we will throw apologies at you that shatter on the floor and cut your feet we will never learn how to be soft we will leave. we always do.
Do Not Fall in Love With People Like Me (via foxgrl)
But I have tamed myself. I have stomped on the throat of my own song.
- Vladimir Mayakovsky (via faiyra)
We once were glorious. Back then in the golden summer of 2006 the sun shone on us brilliantly and we were glorious. We laid on warm asphalt in nighttime streets, drunken and philosophizing about the essences of life that we'd never remember afterwards. We strayed through forests, laughing loudly into the face of darkness, unafraid as if it was still bright and day. We slept in that little hut in your garden and managed to fit on two sofa-beds with more than ten people, piling up more than cuddling. The mere bucket, that served as a makeshift-toilet had been about the only thing we feared. We stayed up late, being creative, being productive, being all that we wished to, living far from society's demands in our paradise of gratification. As we grew older there was love, there was fight and hurt and we did not only move but also drift apart, right into the same reality we've always shunned. We took up our duties, we worked and went to universities as we thought expected of us. We forgot everything that was important, only noticing when it was already too late to find our way back. There was no way more than three people could fit onto those two sofa-beds.
Our divine friendship had been reduced to yearning memories of „back then“, when we felt just so alive. It was an eye-contact with some unknown person you see in a train. Tiny smiles would be exchanged but no one ever dared to be the first to speak up. You would leave with regret that clinged to you for years, ever wondering what would have happened „if“. You found a new place, at least that is what I assume, because even if I might seem to have found a new place myself, I never stopped wishing all of us back to that summer. I was green with envy of your friends now, not taking step one but a step was taken for all of us anyway when your mum died and we realized that there is no worth in waiting and wailing. It was about time to pull ourselves together and take action instead of dreaming of the past. And we talked. Once again we were glorious. We had so many plans, far too many of them to ever be possibly realized. „Charlie“, the text read one year later: „I can no more.“, and I knew. I came rushing to your side and held you in that hospital bed I would stay in over night illicitly. And we all got back together and saw you once again, knowing there would never be a summer as golden again as „back then“. We had plans, far too many of them to ever be possibly realized, even if you had lived beyond the age of 25.