Bread
I was hungry I needed something in my hands
You found me You kneaded something with your hands
and fed me, but only crumbs.

Kiana Khansmith
sheepfilms
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

oozey mess
hello vonnie

izzy's playlists!
One Nice Bug Per Day
RMH

@theartofmadeline
almost home
Cosimo Galluzzi
AnasAbdin
Peter Solarz

if i look back, i am lost
Show & Tell

#extradirty

Kaledo Art
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from Japan
seen from Vietnam
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
@slfdstrctn
Bread
I was hungry I needed something in my hands
You found me You kneaded something with your hands
and fed me, but only crumbs.
Limerence
The silent worship of strangers is the slowest and sweetest of deaths like the sound of a heart breaking, in stages
…the sum of all our twisted parts.
Flesh
My dear, undress your skin for me shed that exquisite layer for all the men at your feet to choke on— but know that I am hungry, too, for the sustenance you keep hidden from the world your mind, your mystery, your meat.
Solstice
Her weather vane spins Between truths and lies Her winter breath, Her summer thighs
Melody/Malady
When I hear the songs of my youth I hum along in wistful silence Memories are shaped like the longest blade A chasm measured in bars and lifetimes If I cover my ears, maybe I’ll deafen myself to the ticking
(Hind)sight
We were never taught that the truths of things hide in shadows and light, the way photographs lie— tricks of the eyes sleight of hand the pulling of one’s leg; whatever the case, you’re still a bitch.
Sitting
The deconstruction of art, the desecration of time; The eternal search for everything— the unfortunate wait for nothing.
Fighting or Writing
If only I could make peace With the violence of want I would no longer have use For this pen But I am a man, here are my fists I have bled for these words And I will not relent Until my body relents Until my glass is full Until you bleed, too.
Gluttony
I confess only to this: We all want what we cannot have And when we get it we want more plus fries on the side and a soda with that too, please Then there are things that should never touch our tongues Even if you can taste it in her words So we feast from afar, like saints But if I am a sinner then she is my penance.
Awake/Asleep
Watch as these insomniac eyes Embalm my waking world A silent obituary; something for you to read.
Plaza
Maybe I was at fault Finding in the translation What was never lost Devising something out of nothing, ex nihilo; but unlike a god I’m not omniscient enough to know what you were thinking on your walk home.
Sea Monster
Swimming in your waters I find no shipwrecks no sailors no skeletons no secrets nor sins; only your salt, my silence.
Amour
The less we know,
The more we show.
Everybody
The human body is a transcendental thing The amorous ways it stains your clean sheets The chalk-white outlines of a crime scene The heavenly constellations found in dirt Lovers, murderers, and astronomers-- as beautiful or ugly as this truth may be-- they all need some body.
Your life in a nutshell.
An ordinary life begets ordinary regrets death and taxes, stolen glances.
demonology
wisps of wreath held captive in her hair, a halo the telling smile with which she spoke, a prophecy that pure white dress she loved to wear on those long summer days-- her devilry.
-201?
When I look at this nondescript photograph, I see things others don’t I start to remember things— I am made aware of what is to the left of the frame, at right, behind I am reminded that I used to live by the train tracks; I used to live by the screeching of the train on the tracks on late nights I used to live by the fields of crops that changed colours and chemistry with the seasons, by the fog and the snow that blanketed my future and my past, by the smell and the taste of the world and by the sound of my freedom. If I lose all but one of my senses, I will have this to touch.
- 2010/2015