[resqectable]

“I’m so unwhole. I don’t know where all the pieces of me are, how to fit them together, how to make them stick. Or if I even can.”

— Kathleen Glasgow, Girl in Pieces

[punti-disutura]

“Oggi la mia anima è triste fino al corpo. Tutto me stesso mi duole: la memoria, gli occhi e le braccia. In tutto ciò che io sono c’è come una specie di reumatismo. Sul mio essere non ha nessun influsso la luce limpida del giorno, il cielo di un grande azzurro puro, l’alta marea immobile di luce diffusa. Non mi lenisce affatto il lieve soffio fresco autunnale, come se l’estate non passasse, che dà tono all’aria. Nulla è nulla per me. Sono triste, ma non con una tristezza definita, e nemmeno con una tristezza indefinita. Sono triste là fuori, nella strada dove si accumulano le casse.”

— Fernando Pessoa, “Il libro dell'inquietudine di Bernardo Soares”, Feltrinelli, 2013.

[derangedrhythms]

Devoured by an endless black nightmare,

Charles Baudelaire, Complete Poems: Tableaux Parisiens; from 'You Were So Jealous', tr. Walter Martin

[derangedrhythms]

Devoured by an endless black nightmare,

Charles Baudelaire, Complete Poems: Tableaux Parisiens; from 'You Were So Jealous', tr. Walter Martin

[amaoltreilmare]

-Antonia Pozzi

[meanwhilepoetry]

The first time our eyes met across a crowded room, it was not love at first sight. Love did not grab me by the throat. Instead when I looked at you, I saw the flowers in the meadow I used to play in as a child. What I mean to say is, every time I think of you, I remember the safest, most sacred place I ever knew. Every time I touch you, my whole body blossoms with wildflowers.

Nikita Gill

[albeex]

“E piangere in silenzio faceva un immenso rumore di solitudine.”

- Antonio Dikele Distefano

[albeex]

“Si dice che quando una persona guarda le stelle è come se volesse ritrovare la propria dimensione dispersa nell'universo.”

- Salvador Dalì

[icharous]

“E ti dico ancora: qualunque cosa avvenga di te e di me, comunque si svolga la nostra vita, non accadrà mai che, nel momento in cui tu mi chiami seriamente e senta d’aver bisogno di me, mi trovi sordo al tuo appello.”

- Hermann Hesse, “Narciso e Boccadoro”

[meanwhilepoetry]

I hurt you and I hoped you would do hurtful things to me because I was so used to love being painful. You refused to do these things to me because you cared for me too much until finally you broke. Forgive me, my love. Pain was all I knew then, all I was comfortable with. There are so many times I looked at your kindness with suspicion, confused the melodies of your gentle words for future harm. I have known predators so long that I didn’t see an honest love for what it was. That it looked like this. That it looks like you.

- Nikita Gill, A Text I Never Sent

[surqrised]

“The bravest thing you can ever do, is to stay kind and soft even when the world has been cruel to you.”

— Nikita Gill

[littlemusingthings]

I’ve finally found it, 

         a place where I’m wanted.

[astriloquum]

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Gentle Spirit

[kaliforhnia]

what that mouth do

complain

[theryanproject]

Where my introverts at?

[dimplelylee]

home

[kate--beckett]

[rewrotethestars]