emotional motion sickness

rachel // 26 // she/they i love you more than the world can contain in its lonely and ramshackle head

[sadiemp3]

new url just in time for joanna newsom autumn <3

[havingapoemwithyou]

Rain by Jack Gilbert

[sotiriabellou]

im going to learn embroidery weaving pottery oil painting hagiography miniature crafting fiddle arabic mandarin spanish perfect french and im going to do it all within the next six months.this is true and incredibly possible and doable and i will do it all

[imagelvr]

[yellowenvelope]

Jenny Holzer, Untitled (Selections from Truisms, Inflammatory Essays, The Living Series, The Survival Series, Under a Rock, Laments, and Child Text) - 1989

[havingapoemwithyou]

lies about sea creatures by ada limón

[ryebreadgf]

From How to Be Perfect by Ron Padgett

[apocryphics]

good poetry makes me want to kill myself but by staying alive

[sashayed]

Zona

My work piles up, I falter with disease. Time rushes toward me— it has no brakes. Still, the radishes are good this year. Run them through butter, add a little salt.

Jim Harrison Dead Man's Float, 2016

[nathanielorion]

Nathaniel Orion G. K. / 11.21.24

[junkjounral]

[ID:

Writing you love letters in phlebotomy class

and watching the crease of my elbow bloom. I look in the vials and you’re in my water. Robbers of you. Coagulating. I’m learning new words: brachial, cephalic, basilic. Redefining butterfly. Dizzy as a centrifuge. Won’t you spin me, darling? Separate me into serum and plasma and lovesickness. Layers of liquid and you. Suspended in heparin.

I’m finding romance in what’s sterile. The preparation and the site of insertion. Kissing your hand and retrieving an alcohol swab, making a ritual of caring. Devoted. Is a blood panel a prayer? An appeal to a higher power? There’s an intervention between syringe and autoclave. That’s where I live. Cleric of blood, acolyte of leeches. Their honest thirst. Their small sharp mouths.

I marked you twice, once on the back of each hand. A bruise like a kiss, livid and real. Hematoma of love. Your stubborn veins. For a moment I couldn’t draw anything forth, and I quavered at your altar. The needle begs the salt to follow. Release and flash. Relief and sting. Then the hot wet pulse inside the vial— a tourniquet loosened around my heart as the proof of your life warmed my palm.

I line up my instruments and remember your lovely wrists. When it comes time to puncture another, may they feel the echo of your faith in my touch; how, when I asked for your love, you gave me your arm.

End ID]

[podcastwizard]

sorry boss can't come in today i was on my way to work and then a gentle spring breeze kissed my cheek and reminded me it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world

[sadiemp3]

Did you get into medicine?

i did, yes! in first-year of grad entry med at the moment:)

[ahotknife]

megan lynne

[eggsdoodz]

rest is productive !!!!

[b1rd1e]

not even kidding be SO earnest. Be so honest and forthcoming about your life, your feelings in the pursuit of connection with others, and know being as earnest as possible in your experience is what quells loneliness in those who feel the same way as you do. Is what helps us feel seen. And builds community and resolve within the fact it doesn't have to feel so lonely and insurmountable. we need community and connection. You really are not as alone as you think, we're all scared. we need to hold each others hands

[cosmonautroger]

Hilma Af Klint, The Swan No. 1

[beguines]

Leila Chatti, "Postcard from Gone"

[beguines]

Pádraig Ó Tuama, Kitchen Hymns