Dear,

Just Poetry.

[just-shower-thoughts]

The reason the washing machine only ever eats one sock is because when it eats a pair we don’t notice it

[mandyraeinsanity]

flecks of gold {cont.}

the truth is should i think about that night it’s dead weight in my mind

i can’t extract the words you said the way they singed inside my head, or how it ushered in the rest and yet, the closer that i get the more it swelters in my chest

sharpened between lash and lid i saw not eyes but where they’d lived and then revived now cobalt knives and if the divide was yours or mine i can’t decide or if it bore from gutted skin sheathed beneath the narratives you spin

what’s left still remains unsaid between dampened discourse we’ve embed a rooted ache, our wounds not only bleed the same they can neither be erased even if we stitch each other in their place

so it wasn’t you or me, we chose only who we wanted to see ourselves      - but clearer the muse and the mirror until inevitably it splintered away too

the truth is; you’re right

i lied

and so did you.

written: feb 26, 2020 - march 9, 2020

[mandyraeinsanity]

flecks of gold

just as a flame’s flicker differs with each lick so too the shivers delivered with each press of lips on flesh and silken skin,

mine entwine with cobalt eyes, freckled with rays of golden lines, and i let out a carnal requiem for reticence,

flushed and spent i’m left freed of linen and restraint, to lay bare in truth

and you- with those flecks of gold written: feb 22 - march 3, 2017

[mandyraeinsanity]

the art of detachment.

“Take any emotion—love for a woman, or grief for a loved one, or what I’m going through, fear and pain from a deadly illness. If you hold back on the emotions—if you don’t allow yourself to go all the way through them—you can never get to being detached, you’re too busy being afraid. You’re afraid of the pain, you’re afraid of the grief. You’re afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails. “But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. And only then can you say, ‘All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion for a moment’.” ― Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie

[mandyraeinsanity]

Tonight I’m hurting,

i’m not sure if it’s actually you

or displaced emotion

and I can’t tell if it’s new

or if it’s been bottled up

and spilling over

it just scares me

to feel

this heartbroken

and profoundly alone

at this time

of night

[mandyraeinsanity]

december 31, 2017.

i feel for the first in many, that this year instead of another uphill battle or maelstrom of grief, i've begun to experience this life as my canvas i've moved through deep grays and steady hues of blue, but this is a year to remember bursting with c o l o u r ॐ

[mandyraeinsanity]

How are you feeling?

Feels bad man. Feels real bad.

[mandyraeinsanity]

wasted s p a c e s (in time and place).

i found it in rosy cheeks against a sharp late autumn breeze, in skin that crisped instead with heat, as you spoke  to me, i heard it wedged in slanted reminisce in words that might’ve wished for this, in secret spite of she, i felt it - thrice on summer nights, cloaked in pulsing crooked stripes of moonlit windows’ angled light, not once  though have you used your tongue, in time to face or trace my own, and i fear, i’ve left  too much wasted space to wait, for another time and  place.

written: november 15-27th, 2017

[mandyraeinsanity]

here's a scenario: we make out excessively and let nature take its course. we won't ever be ready, but we might miss out on something extraordinary by convincing ourselves we need to be.

[mandyraeinsanity]

“For every instance I am reminded of humanity’s unsparing malevolence, I am reminded threefold of its abundant compassion.”

- Mandy Rae

[mandyraeinsanity]

hues of blue.

we met when life was gusting growth from every static crevice, thieving truths i’d come to know                disfiguring            my senses, but -                      with you            i learned,            in time            i loved,

and so i took root in hues of blue to savor the stillness i’d found in the end, content wasn’t meant to be kept, and soon enough my colours bled

while now i believe it was you finding me

i was never the one you were searching for

written: october 13, 2017

[mandyraeinsanity]

less.

tell me, what can i do to make room in my head, or rather      less, for memories attached at frayed outer edges for faint misconceptions of you as my friend i’ve swallowed regrets when they lump in my neck but can’t choke down the thought of your hands there instead~

written: september 30, 2017

[mandyraeinsanity]

i want a rainy day.

i wasn’t naive provoking teeth to trace a heart from either side

nor was it shame that sliced my breath with lips and tongue that curve my spine

it wasn’t need that clenched the sheets and let you slip inside

but oh, i know of several ways i’d waste a rainy day with you

written: august 4, 2017

[mandyraeinsanity]

rebound.

i've been gray for days  stable, but subdued, seeking refuge in the stilled steadiness of reason and while i'd learned to fly i'd forgotten my form, but you -              you made me soar written: august 3, 2017

[mandyraeinsanity]

2|0|1|6 - December 31

The last three years now have been intensely transformational. Early 2014 prepared me spiritually to embrace the events that would mark the end of a life I knew. 2015 was largely internal work as I deconstructed and reconstructed everything I understood about myself and my world. And now, through 2016 I've seen this evolution reflected in my outer life.

I see, now, the Foundation that was laid for me. I'm grateful for it. I am ready to move on, and move forward. ॐ

[samcsrennie]

How Bo Burnham Represents Modern Self-Consciousness

Fourteen days since I first watched the new Bo Burnham special Make Happy and I haven’t had a thought unrelated to it since. So to rid myself of these ceaseless thoughts—to make my way out of this labyrinth—I thought I’d write and write and write about it. I thought I’d think too much about thinking too much. I thought I’d get introspective and never make some fucking noise.

So. Bo Burnham. Modern self-consciousness. Existentialism. Metafiction. Social media.

Segways are weird.

Look at the following quote:

“I look at the young people and I feel like, I was born in 1990 and I was sort of raised in America when it was a cult of self-expression, and I was just taught, you know, “express myself, I have things to say and everyone will care about them.” And I think everyone was taught that and most of us found out no one gives a shit what we think. So we flock to performers by the thousands because we’re the few who have found an audience and then I’m supposed to get up here and say “follow your dreams” as if this is a meritocracy. It is not. Okay? I had a privileged life, and I got lucky, and I’m unhappy. They say it’s like the “me” generation, it’s not. The arrogance is taught, or it was cultivated, it’s self-conscious, that’s what it is. It’s conscious of self. Social media, it’s just the market’s answer to a generation that demanded to perform, so the market said “Here, perform everything, to each other, all the time, for no reason.” It’s prison, it’s horrific, it is performer and audience melded together. What do we want more than to lie in our bed at the end of the day and just watch our life as a satisfied audience member? I know very little about anything, but what I do know is that if you can live your life without an audience, you should do it.”

Ha. Ha. Ha. Classic. Comedy.

Keep reading

[mandyraeinsanity]

It's unnerving;

How easy it can be to slip into skin of our former selves into past lives long since dismembered in which now we are only ghosts And for the hours spent as a marionette to memories are hours lost to the fragmented characters we allowed ourselves to be for a few moments… Feb. 2016.