(w)ho(re)zier

there is fear¿

[sadcatgore]

So there's this quote from i think a bunch of letters virginia woolf's husband wrote and it goes like-

"i am reduced to a thing that wants virginia"

I think about it a lot some afternoons.

[shencomix]

[sadcatgore]

Self depreciation is so fucking lame as a trend, i mean encouraging others to hate themselves...how did mainstream media and society achieve this mind numbing tactic in the public?

[thoughtcascades]

I open and close this app like it's a fridge

[sadcatgore]

Wish i could say the same about fucking ig

[sadcatgore]

So i used to likke post poetry initially on tumblr and then i got bored so i stopped. Now I'm just a lurker yk, I don't even repost at all, i just like stuff and im on my way

HOWEVER today i was like whyyy don't i repost stuff???? I mean......keeping this amazing taste in all things hidden is a fucking crime

And i was just thinking that I'm not expecting heavy immediate footfall or the eradication of human loneliness from a few simple reposts

Not to beat my own drum but if you're following someone who makes u think- I don't know if this little shit will post the most beautiful heartfelt piece of visual or semantic poetry tmrw or if she's going to make me laugh till i cry(milf exaggeration). Because that's what we are all here for eventually i think.

Alrighttt then I'm going to go beat my own drum now iyk what i mean with all i said about human loneliness and whatnot.

[ein-bleistift-und-radiergummi]

Jockel Walz Screen Print ‘Kosmos’ 1990-1991.

(via liehaberstueckchen)

[sadcatgore]

Kiss kiss kissssssss 💋💋💋

Absolute cracker of a painting ammiright?? The colour scheme OHHHHH the streakiness of it OHH ZEUS i want to inhale it

This is the kind of painting id want to see near kids

Doesn't it radiate comfort????

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

— Louise Glück, from “Timor Mortis.”

[sadcatgore]

Coming mom gimmme 2 mins gurl I'm just frozen in my seat with the tongue lolling and brain numb because it's too hard to think or even breathe

Just get me a lobotomy for my birthday tbh

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

And so it was.

[sadcatgore]

This is... exactly how i think except the baby voice searching

No sir i type full, coherent sentences with better grammar than whole ass YA books

[gentlyascending]

Midnight Visitor, Dean Gioia

[sadcatgore]

Don't want to pollute this with some trash pop culture reference but Lockwood and co anyone?

[kaalbela]

Jan Ironside

[companionsofusall]

[id: thick textured paintings of flowers. Each stroke is thick and makes up some textured element on the piece - a leaf, a long patch of green for a stem a wide flat stroke for each petal. Each image shows a similar type of flower, in shades from white, to orange to red to pink and yellow. The texture of the paint blends together in some flowers creating a streaked effect in each petal. end id]

[sadcatgore]

I WANT TO EAT IT AND TOUCH IT IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE

[pointnclick]

your child was a pleasure to have in class and a dark, tortured genius

[sadcatgore]

I'm not delusional ok??? Multiple teachers who had multiple crushes on me thought this abt me so stfu srsly😤

[sadcatgore]

Yeah I am not have to go on about another modern day Prometheus and Proteus enveloped in a metaphor about capitalism and the everyday striving for the impossible.

I am just here to look at William dafoe and some shark genitalia on a siren <3

[sadcatgore]

I have too much too say about this movie. All good things.

[sadcatgore]

The tell-tale heart

Illuminating “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe

Harry Clarke illustrated many of Poe’s stories and the above image from “The Tell-Tale Heart” is one of my favorites. Clarke’s use of design

[sadcatgore]

Coming home is terrible

whether the dogs lick your face or not;

whether you have a wife

or just a wife-shaped loneliness waiting for you.

Coming home is terribly lonely,

so that you think

of the oppressive barometric pressure

back where you have just come from

with fondness,

because everything’s worse

once you’re home.

You think of the vermin

clinging to the grass stalks,

long hours on the road,

roadside assistance and ice creams,

and the peculiar shapes of

certain clouds and silences

with longing because you did not want to return.

Coming home is

just awful.

And the home-style silences and clouds

contribute to nothing

but the general malaise.

Clouds, such as they are,

are in fact suspect,

and made from a different material

than those you left behind.

You yourself were cut

from a different cloudy cloth,

returned,

remaindered,

ill-met by moonlight,

unhappy to be back,

slack in all the wrong spots,

seamy suit of clothes

dishrag-ratty, worn.

You return home

moon-landed, foreign;

the Earth’s gravitational pull

an effort now redoubled,

dragging your shoelaces loose

and your shoulders

etching deeper the stanza

of worry on your forehead.

You return home deepened,

a parched well linked to tomorrow

by a frail strand of…

Anyway . . .

You sigh into the onslaught of identical days.

One might as well, at a time . . .

Well . . .

Anyway . . .

You’re back.

The sun goes up and down

like a tired whore,

the weather immobile

like a broken limb

while you just keep getting older.

Nothing moves but

the shifting tides of salt in your body.

Your vision blears.

You carry your weather with you,

the big blue whale,

a skeletal darkness.

You come back

with X-ray vision.

Your eyes have become a hunger.

You come home with your mutant gifts

to a house of bone.

Everything you see now,

all of it: bone.

[sadcatgore]

What is god to a lizard?

[sadcatgore]

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[sadcatgore]

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