not everything feels like something else

[mudroads]

hi !! sorry for messaging you out of nowhere but i just came across your url and i could swear i had read it in a poem before.. it's been driving me crazy but i can't remember it.. if it is a poem, do you mind telling me the name? i think "not everything feels like something else" was the last line.. if it isn't a poem, sorry for bothering you.. lovely url regardless! <3

Thank you, but I think you're referring to my current blog title, not my url. The line "not everything feels like something else" comes from the poem "Jessica gives me a chill pill" by Angie Sijun Lou.

The full poem can be read here

[radstudies]

Joseph Wright of Derby (English, 1734-1797) - A view of Vesuvius from Posillipo, Naples, c.1779

[antigonick]

My body was braille for the creeping influences: dawn suns groped over my head and cooled at my feet,   through my fabrics and skins the seeps of winter digested me—

Seamus Heaney, excerpt of “Bog Queen”, in North (via antigonick)

[proartspb]

Fig tree that grows upside down, the Park of the Baths of Baia on the shore of the Bay of Naples

[metaphorformetaphor]

Don’t take away your memory. Leave it alone in my chest. A tremor of white cherry in punishing January. […] But leave your memory, leave it alone in my chest.

Federico García Lorca, from “Gacela of Love’s Memory,” The Tamarit Poems (Dedalus Press, 2007)

[edgeandflow-deactivated20220101]

[soracities]

Life is first boredom, then fear. Whether or not we use it, it goes.

Philip Larkin, from ‘Dockery and Son’, The Whitsun Weddings (via soracities)

[darkgreyclouds]

you still tried your best and that is worth something

[ondoinganevildeedblues]

funniest crime would be breaking into a car on a hot day so you can die in it

[delmondo]

people who put their gum under tables are wild animals they literally do not have higher level cognitive functions. they live in nature.

[hotvampireadjacent]

calling them wild animals is an insult to nature

[delmondo]

sorry you’re right i should’ve said baboons

[ryu1964-deactivated20200806]

I call my father Babbu but I hate my father Die father

[delmondo]

Die Babbu

[ryu1964-deactivated20200806]

^ This Die Babbu

[delmondo]

[ryu1964-deactivated20200806]

[delmondo]

Hell on babbu technique

[fordarkmornings]

Valeria Duca  -  Dreamland,  2020 

Moldovan, b. 1995 

Oil on canvas

[syringavulgaris]

Naomi Shihab Nye, Next Time

[andatsea]

Temporary passenger.

–

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[nitramar]

Cherries spilled on crosswalk. New York, USA. 2014. Photo by Christopher Anderson / Magnum Photos.

[watchoutforintellect]

Your lips a dipped, deep crimson. You revelled in red. I felt it raw - like the crisp gauze edges Of a stiffening wound. I could touch The open vein in it, the crusted gleam.

Ted Hughes, from ‘Red’ featured in Collected Poems of Ted Hughes (via watchoutforintellect)

[bostonpoetryslam]

I look back but don’t see myself in the lake. Don’t see the dress I lost. Don’t see either brutal- izing lover. Don’t feel the sugar. I notice I am emptier with you.

Arielle Greenberg, “The Judge’s Wife,” from Given (via bostonpoetryslam)

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