[monsoon-moth]

i had this dream, where i was a big dog, in a white room. with my head in your lap, and your hand above it.

i don't remember much. i think might have been scared.

there was a beautiful blackness, and a floating-like feeling. i could still feel the weight of your hand on my head.

i woke up in a warmth, and thought of you at the base of my spine.

i think we lived a good life. i miss you as if you're only in the room over.

[monsoon-moth]

i have a birthmark on my collarbone, it is certainly me. if i disappear it was not my own doing. i am so exhausted by my own mind, my indecisive sense of self. if i disappear know it was not me.

[monsoon-moth]

i don't know how to describe this hollowness about me, this viciousness. simultaneously the barrel of a gun and the bullet. i have no proof of the cruelty i possess. something about nature, something that is not mine but still my own. i don't think i am supposed to be here. i have wasted the soul of someone brighter and more willing. maybe that is the guilt from which this viciousness was born. maybe in taking something precious and kind, this brutality emerges. i don't know what it is i want to say, but i don't believe it is worth saying. i wish i wasn't here. i wish for the preciousness to return.

[monsoon-moth]

in the feverish state of my own fatalism, the cool metal that kisses my temple feels like an embodiment of romance, a relief and a tenderness that i am too tentative to accept, to greedy to decline. claim me as i claim you. i beg for you in my burning, even my seared flesh is more beautiful than when intact. do i make sense? understand me, please. please. please.

[monsoon-moth]

come on, sweet sun fire. keep me close in your eternal burning. i protest this life. you're made from my blood the way i'm made of your empty. we're stuck in the same spirals. do you resent me for crawling back? you're a pull. can you blame me? do you? do you? come on, sweet sun fire, let me in on your self-immolation.

[weltenwellen]

Wildness Before Something Sublime Leila Chatti

[pmamtraveller]

Luca Ponsato - Does Anyone See My Suffering

[metamorphesque]

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë

[metamorphesque]

"Beautiful Losers", Leonard Cohen

[monsoon-moth]

i dream of your wrinkled skin, like ridges in tree bark, like creases between midribs. i think of you so sweetly and my own self so cruelly. i've got a violent head for loving, i think.

you know the rock of my spine in its self-soothing. i think i'm reaching for you. something about a magnet-pull. you're so good to me. why'd you have to do that? i don't like this knowing.

sometimes i put my hands, on either side of my jaw, that way you used to do. i feel like i'm letting you live in my skin. i'm not myself unless i have your nerves in my flesh.

you left me with a tight throat. what's the point of it all? you're a noose around me.

i keep thinking of your eyes closed. i know you're blue. i know you were in pain. i can't help but think of you as if you're dreaming. my darling. my sweet darling. you were in pain. you must have hurt so much.

i want to know what time would have done to you. i want to see your creases so badly. i want to see where you get your ridges. this fragrant imagination of mine is no good. i can't see you at all. you're a fog. you're closed eyes.

i can't keep doing this. i'm not sure if i want to.

i'll try close my eyes over you. i think that's the only time i'm allowed stillness.

[amilkyway]

fireflies lighting up a rural Pennsylvania field at dusk

[monsoon-moth]

it keeps growing bigger

expanding

or maybe i am shrinking

emptying space to fill

either way

it feels like

im just this pit

in my chest

just this feeling

that never seems to go away

[monsoon-moth]

im not a complete person. i think there was a mistake in creating me. i feel so left behind. there's this heavy feeling that follows me like a childhood friend. these dull colours and visual snow. im not supposed to be here. why do i keep trying to justify it?

[monsoon-moth]

i feel like i'll never be a loved person

[mournfulroses]

Erica Jong, from a poem titled "Statue," featured in Loveroot: Poems, originally published in 1975

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Instructions for the Journey  :: Pat Schneider

[olivermarys]

Mary Oliver, “Invitation.”