Marieke Zapasnik

i was burned on a certain mars, now i’m a leaf and like autumn fall, i will dye.

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Parfois j’écoute ma tête penser, alors je mets de la musique.

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les perles des océans ne roules pas sur mes joues

cry, cry as long as you need to, as you feel to. cry until it hurt your stomach, until it hurt your throat.

cry these heavy and painful tears. that kind of tears who roll down your cheeks like precious perles. cry them and let them burn your skin from the salt they are made of. the salt of the ocean where your pain swims with the whales.

cry loud, like if the end of the world was here, like if these tears and screaming could heal the world and your life.

cry like if, i mean, cry for your broken heart, cause there is no if. cry for your broken soul. cry for the people you loved and lose. for these you have gained.

cry on your childhood, bad or good.

cry for this guy you fall in love with, that boy who pass your way to quickly and you couldn’t keep.

cry cause you’re scared and lost. cry cause taxes and bills are freaking scary and your brain feels heavy.

cry for the old you you win on. she deserve that. you owe her that.

cry for the Moon. cry. cry for her, cause she looks upon you. cry cause she sees and doesn’t judge you. cry cause most of the time, you do not feel her look on you, and that hurt you as fuck.

cry like a princesse, like a crocodile. like if Romeo had died.

cry for God sake ! fucking cry !! don’t let these eyes dry.

but don’t cry when your drunk. it’s just sad.

[mariskadiary]

140121

tenderness should overcome

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tendresse radicale

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il y a une question qui me taraude

qui trotte dans ma tête comme une renarde qui file de ses pattes dans une plaine aux hautes herbes

qui sommes-nous dans l’œil des créatures avec qui nous vivons sur cette terre ?

à quoi ressemblons-nous ? quelle est notre histoire face à elles ? faite de sang et de massacre

pourraient-elles concevoir, ne serait-ce qu’un instant, que nous rions ? que nous nous aimons ? que nous nous serons dans les bras ? peuvent-elles percevoir que nous aussi, comme elles, nous avons envie d’être avec celleux que nous aimons ? que nous cherchons leur chaleur ? ou ne voient-elles que la haine, le massacre de leurs petits, l’enfermement de leurs mères, leur sang qui coule ? peuvent-elles seulement voir autre chose ?

ça trotte ça trotte, comme une renarde dans un bois.

ça me regarde au loin, comme une louve qui passe par là.

[mariskadiary]

most of the time

i dont finish my drawing, i mean, i dont ink them, cause i love the crayons effect

how it looks, kind of romantic, like there’s still movement

but here, i’ve done it

it’s done

[mariskadiary]

g trouvé ça

05112022 01 :26

j’ai trouvé ça à l’intérieur de moi

c’était quelque chose pour toi

mais comme tu n’étais plus là

que je ne pouvais pas te le donner

j’ai voulu l’annihiler

le tuer

le faire disparaître

parce que c’était pour toi

et que tu n’étais plus là

que finalement

tu n’en voulais pas

j’ai voulu l’effacer

ce truc que j’ai trouvé là, à l’intérieur de moi

doux

gentil

amoureux

c’était mon cœur qui bat, qui battait pour toi

alors j’ai décidé de le garder

et de le fêter

ce gentil cœur

maintenait brisé

qui aimait ton prénom

la texture de tes cheveux

tes beaux yeux

ta voix aux tons chaleureux

ta peau un peu foncée

ta bite

ma foi oui

ta bite

j’ai décidé de fêter tout ça

tout cette amour

toute cette poésie

qui était là

en moi

[mariskadiary]

Ton cul dans mon lit,

tel un chat mal léché.

Tu t'es abandonné dans ma maison.

Maintenant c'est chez moi, lances-tu joyeusement,

posé là, dans mon salon.

Tu étais cru, pleins de prétentions, curieux de tout, curieux de moi, tu as gratter toutes les plaies, montré les tiennes.

Il n'y avait pas de recoins où se cacher.

"on est beaux ensemble" on était beaux oui.

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“When sex becomes a production or performance, that is when it loses it's value. Be mutual. Be loud. Be clumsy. Make noises, be quiet, and make a mess. Bite, scratch, push, pull, hold, thrust. Remove pressure from the moment. Love the moment. Embrace it. Enjoy your body; enjoy your partner's body. Produce sweat, be natural, entice your senses, give into pleasure. Bump heads, miss when you kiss, laugh when it happens. Speak words, speak with your body, speak to their soul. Touch their skin, kiss their goosebumps and play with their hair. Scream, beg, whimper, sigh, let your toes curl, lose yourself. Chase your breath; keep the lights on, watch their eyes when they explode. Forget worrying about extra skin, sizes of parts and things that are meaningless. Save the expectations, take each second as it comes. Smear your make up, mess up your hair, rid your masculinity, and lose your ego. Detonate together, collapse together, and melt into each other.”

Corissa Marie

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burn me

i rather be burned as a witch than to be called your bitch

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you're an habit I want to quite

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“Et ce brin de bruyère Un souvenir pour récompense [...] Un oiseau chante je ne sais où C'est je crois ton âme qui veille Les mois, comme toujours, ont passé, les saisons Mais moi je suis resté le même Qui attend que revienne le printemps Qui aime et qui espère Connaître la fin de l'hiver“

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il y a ma voix perdue quelque part là

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Extreme independence is a trauma response This. Hits. Hard. The inability to receive support from others is a trauma response. Your “I don’t need anyone, I’ll just do it all myself” conditioning is a survival tactic. And you needed it to shield your heart from abuse, neglect, betrayal, and disappointment from those who could not or would not be there for you. From the parent who was absent and abandoned you by choice or the parent who was never home from working three jobs to feed and house you. From the lovers who offered sexual intimacy but never offered a safe haven that honored your heart. From the friendships and family who ALWAYS took more than they ever gave. From all the situations when someone told you “we’re in this together” or “I got you” then abandoned you, leaving you to pick up the pieces when shit got real, leaving you to handle your part and their part, too. From all the lies and all the betrayals. You learned along the way that you just couldn’t really trust people. Or that you could trust people, but only up to a certain point. Extreme-independence IS. A. TRUST. ISSUE. You learnt: if I don’t put myself in a situation where I rely on someone, I won’t have to be disappointed when they don’t show up for me, or when they drop the ball... because they will ALWAYS drop the ball EVENTUALLY right? You may even have been intentionally taught this protection strategy by generations of hurt ancestors who came before you. Extreme-independence is a preemptive strike against heartbreak. So, you don’t trust anyone. And you don’t trust yourself, either, to choose people. To trust is to hope, to trust is to be vulnerable. “Never again,” you vow. But no matter how you dress it up and display it proudly to make it seem like this level of independence is what you always wanted to be, in truth it’s your wounded, scarred, broken heart behind a protective brick wall. Impenetrable. Nothing gets in. No hurt gets in. But no love gets in either. Fortresses and armor are for those in battle, or who believe the battle is coming. It’s a trauma response. The good news is trauma that is acknowledged is trauma that can be healed. You are worthy of having support. You are worthy of having true partnership. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of having your heart held. You are worthy to be adored. You are worthy to be cherished. You are worthy to have someone say, “You rest. I got this.” And actually deliver on that promise. You are worthy to receive. You are worthy to receive. You are worthy. You don’t have to earn it. You don’t have to prove it. You don’t have to bargain for it. You don’t have to beg for it. You are worthy. Worthy. Simply because you exist.

Jordan Muench

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i cried all day

chocolate and Adele

there was a storm