memento mori

death is inevitable.

[feral-ballad]

Courtney Marie Andrews, from Old Monarch: Poems; “See”

[Text ID: “How rare to see someone and feel. / How rare to see someone and know / you are not alone, / for your eyes are theirs, / your pain, too. / How rare to truly see someone.”]

[mournfulroses]

Nikita Gill, from Your Heart is the Sea: Poems; "The Anguish," originally published in 2018

[poetic-questions]

—Anaïs Nin, "The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934"

[bnmxfld]

“Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.”

— David Foster Wallace / Infinite Jest

[feral-ballad]

Andrea Gibson, from The Madness Vase; “Somewhere, A Carpenter”

[Text ID: “This life / is built almost entirely / of love / and losing, / isn’t it?”]

[moved-saintsebastiensbf]

Grief Lessons, Anne Carson

[kosmogrl]

[metamorphesque]

from "scent of orange blossoms: haiku/senryu" by Teresa Mei Chuc

[typewriter-worries]

[ Text ID: did the atom / ever know its destiny / how our hands create? ]

[flowerytale]

Virginia Woolf, from To the Lighthouse Susan Sontag, from Reborn: Early Diaries 1947-1963

[metamorphesque]

— Heaven, Mieko Kawakami

[text ID: I knew that it was cruel to be so optimistic, but, in my solitude, I couldn't resist the urge and spent entire days basking in idiotic fantasies, sometimes verging on prayer.]

[exhaustedborderline]

[traaumaa]

[small-but-mightyy]

[heavensghost]

hands that let go, Katie Maria

[valentina-poem]

[drowningparty]

Aeschylus’ Prometheus Bound.

[kafk-a]

Marguerite Duras