[unessasi]

I will always be the girl who disappears.

[a-h-mad-hish]

“But your solitude will be a support and a home for you, even in the midst of very unfamiliar circumstances, and from it you will find all your paths.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

[petaltexturedskies]

So when people say that poetry is a luxury, or an option, or for the educated middle classes, or that it shouldn't be read at school because it is irrelevant, or any of the strange and stupid things that are said about poetry and its place in our lives, I suspect that the people doing the saying have had things pretty easy. A tough life needs a tough language—and that is what poetry is. That is what literature offers—a language powerful enough to say how it is. It isn't a hiding place. It is a finding place.

Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

[petaltexturedskies]

Anaïs Nin, in a diary entry dated 17 May 1929, from The Early Diary of Anais Nin: 1927-1931

[la-serpent-deactivated20260313]

Michael Donovan

[tactilvision]

Joanna Piotrowska

[mournfulroses]

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in The Diary of Anaïs Nin Volume 1 1931-1934

[jessaerys]

i think it's beautiful that cats eat you if you die in your apartment and nobody finds you for a while. i don't know why it's used as anti-kitty cat propaganda as if eating you means they don't love u. if i died and no one found me for a while i would want my kitty cat to eat me bc i love her so much and i don't want her to starve. it's not her fault i'm too dead to give her her fancy feasts. she's going thru something scary ok. i don't know a single cat owner who doesn't feel the same way

[passioflos]

Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus.

[wishicouldcrossthesea]

tramp stamp that says all shall be well

[mydeadpony]

[petaltexturedskies]

I knew that I was dying. Something in me said, go ahead, die, sleep, become as them, accept. Then something else in me said, no, save the tiniest bit. It needn't be much, just a spark. A spark can set a whole forest on fire. Just a spark. Save it.

Charles Bukowski, The Last Night of the Earth Poems

[seeerat]

YOU. DO. NOT. HAVE. TO. BE. GOOD.

[lifeinpoetry]

My body is the patron saint of want.

— Lauren Milici, from “Invocation to St. Ashley,” published in OCCULUM

[ceruleanheaven]

sorry can you repeat that i didnt hear the last 12 years

[punishdaisies]

pistol

[saintsebastiensbf]

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God