Mother Wound

[academeia]

beth

[zegalba]

Nick Knight: Rose (2000)

[requiem-on-water]

John Royle

[lingering-zephyr]

the hostility of motherhood is paradoxical  because your mother will nurture you with her blood then lacerate the hideous segments she couldn’t remove from herself  even if that means leaving dents and voids in your body.

[cactuslands]

jana brike

[who-]

[thephotoregistry]

Katrine Noer

[chillpotato]

- Hanif Kureishi, from "The Buddha of Suburbia"

[prunelya]

[liivn]

[ginger-by-the-sea]

[beautifulbookishdisaster]

The landscape remembers. Pain stays on in places like this.

Moïra Fowley-Doyle, All the Bad Apples

[leatherandmossprints]

‘To Bed’ by Elin Danielson-Gambogi, c. 1897.

[danger]

asshai by  Edén Ochoa Iniesta

[einsliga]

[autumnrayyne]

Inheritance

Daughter’s inherit their mother’s nervous system

Synapses, nerves and cords

The tight coil of control

A legacy of violence

Possession

This volatile temperament passed down to me

Is it the same fire passed down to her?

And her mother before?

A lineage of scorched earth

Lingering smoke left in our wake

Whose to blame for this perpetual cycle

For the ire in my bloodstream

Who do I blame?

Who did this to me?

The ache behind my eye

My words that lash like whips

Fire in my belly

Fire in my brain

Not warming, but consuming me

Hot acid licks the back of my throat

I speak in flames

Burn bridges I haven’t crossed yet

Words that shoot for the kill

With my sharp tongue

I aim to hit

Silver scales scatter down my spine

It all rolls off me

Always on the defense

So thick you’ll never get in

Is this fate? or fabrication?

Did I inherit this, or did I become it?

Where does she end and I begin?

We only exist together

Wretched mirrors of each other

All she could’ve been

All that I might be

I am tired

Of carrying ghosts that still breathe

Licking wounds not made by me

Flinching at echoes

Triggered by memory

Mourning for a mother

Whose heart still beats

Carrying her ruin

Like a legacy

She’s my greatest fear

And I’m her biggest regret

We’re a closed circuit of resentment

Always on the edge of drawing blood

She gave me her fury

Bathed me in her fire

And when I rose from the ashes

She punished me

For the mess

[malaesthetics]