[neonossuary]

[neonossuary]

[neonossuary]

forgiveness can bring someone

back from the dead

or the edge,

if you teach yourself to let it

learn how to hear

sorry

through a locked door

let the words

wind and waft through

a keyhole

if you can

sublimate grief

or rage and

use shit to sow soil

little buds emerge

in spring

i am walking with my palms

facing upwards

your sunlight glares

into my eyes

[neonossuary]

for a moment i forget

how to be made of flesh -

malleable

unseen i

am able to move

silently

like nighttime,

filling in gaps

someone

left

behind

when i am beyond

my body i can sleep

with my eyes open

in the desert,

among fine dirt and

coarse sand

let the wind rip

right through me

like ash

on the breeze

i am

set free

[neonossuary]

typically i am a gracious host

to the house spiders in my home

they roost peacefully

in the corners,

at the ceiling

i let them rest

we are content to remain strangers

unbothered by the other’s presence but

never feigning closeness

after a prolonged absence i return home

in eagerness,

rush to run the bath

find her small form

dancing from the faucet

a modest web strains to cling to porcelain

thoughtlessly i turn the water on

and though i do not see that

humble silk abode flush away i know

that she is dead and i have killed her

for the crime of choice

in housing,

poor taste in

a place to create,

or maybe shit luck.

i wonder if, for all my

platitudes

and good acts

i am as guilty as the rest of them

still capable of the violence of carelessness

[literarymood]

~ Louise Glück, excerpt from Castile

[weltenwellen]

Natalie Díaz, from "American Arithmetic", Postcolonial Love Poem

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— beau taplin

[wedarkacademia]

[nevver]

The morning after the night before, Ada Zielińska

[the-evil-clergyman]

Bath Time by Virgilio Tojetti (1897)

[ur-daily-inspiration]

[xehasmenesithakes]

Real

[neonossuary]

my heart, that sore moon

waxing and waning in grief

steadfast like the tides

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Louise Glück, "The Burning Heart"

[neonossuary]

home,

remembering that we are

home

the apples grow

fat in their trees

and the grass stays

ever green

i unwrap

my hair

and let it fall

down

i could survive

off so much less

[nubbsgalore]

flamingos flying over tanzania’s lake natron, a salt lake which is home to three quarters of the world’s three million lesser flamingos, as well as toxic multicoloured extremophile cyanobacteria that thrive in water so hypersaline it would strip away human skin. for the flamingos, however, the tough skin and scales on their legs prevents burning, leaving them uniquely free to drink from the near boiling freshwater found from springs and geysers at the lake’s edges.  (x, x, x, x, x)

[kosmogrl]