āGirl dinnerā should be eating a man alive like saturn devouring his son
noise dept.
wallacepolsom

#extradirty
RMH
šŖ¼

romaā
Mike Driver
i don't do bad sauce passes
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Show & Tell

izzy's playlists!
I'd rather be in outer space šø
Jules of Nature

⣠Chile in a Photography ā£
Cosimo Galluzzi
Sweet Seals For You, Always

pixel skylines

ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation
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@orphelines
āGirl dinnerā should be eating a man alive like saturn devouring his son
You raised me out of heart-darknesses,
Rainer Maria Rilke
from In the House With No Doors by Sarah Kay
i think i was born to hang out
manifested hanging out as a job
I read somewhere that "When you choose a life partner you're choosing your eating companion for about 20,000 meals, your travel companion for about 70 vacations, your retirement friend, career therapist, & someone whose day you'll hear about 18,000 times" and I really can't stress this enough.
Hellooooo im sending telepathic messages why arenāt you responding
btw you cant save people. the most you can do is try to understand them. the most you can do is let them be themselves. all you can do is empathize, be there
āI remember crying over you and I donāt mean a couple of tears and Iām blue. Iām talking about collapsing and screaming at the moon.ā
ā -The Avett Brothers (Tear Down the House)
why am i not currently in the italian countryside with a fruit plate & wearing a light linen dress? unacceptable
Iām sorry!!! Iām sorry that we canāt go back!!! And for all the things we canāt remember. But Iām glad we did it!! The love will always be there!
Hopeless heart that thrives on paradox; that longs for the beloved and is secretly relieved when the beloved is not there. That gnaws away at the night-time hours desperate for a sign and appears at breakfast so self-composed. That longs for certainty, fidelity, compassion, and plays roulette with anything precious.
Jeanette Winterson, fromĀ āThe Passionā
Natalie DĆaz, from āI, Minotaurā,Ā Postcolonial Love Poem
YOUR DAMAGE
Some days the lake eats your face. Some days the car eats the key. Other days you deposit ten minutes of sob into a trash can. Your childhood home will not be yours again. You wonāt walk out of those woods you wish you never entered. Much of your early adulthood, and mine, was coming up with innovative ways to vomit, and then innovative ways not to vomit. My roommate holds my face steady, pushes the earplug in with a flick, like fake eyelashes. Fans my waterlogged childhood books on the fire escape, pausing to flip through the one with owls in tight sweaters. Iām in a striped cotton dress without shoes or a bra. Maybe itās evening. Tankard of Pedialyte. Ghost cat stepping across my chest. Everything inside burns. You have to remember this was back when we had to take cabs, so we take a cab. My roommate tells me the bangle bracelet is a Sea-Band. Puts a wig over my hair and an all-day sucker in my hand, like going to a rave. Jams my heels into heels. Drags my heels into the cab. When we reach my childhood home, which probably looks very much like yours, we realize we brought nothing to throw. So I throw my voice around every tree, into the chimney my father built, across the yard where my ghost dog still ghosts.
MARY BIDDINGER
ālonging for love
what i could never confess without some bravado by emily palermo // nickie zimov // homosexuality by frank oāhara // normal people (2020) // the unabridged journal by sylvia plath // holly warburton
okay y'all can stop weaving webs now
if you treat pain as something to destroy or kill, if you are hostile to your own pain, then you will end up stabbing your own open wound.
pain is a signal that loving care is needed.
doing violence to your suffering is self harm