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@somearduousmagazine
June has a crush on a girl. June welcomes the warmer summer days and wrings out her clothes from the rain. She feeds her plants and sets them out by an open window. The sun is coming out now, the nights are so much shorter. June knows her time is coming, like it’s her name running across the cities’ marquees. She picks out a white linen dress and dances under a pink sky. It’s June, the month of tie-dyed shirts and braided hair. It’s June, and the nights are begging for fireworks. It’s June, and as she closes her eyes, she kisses a girl so softly.
Schuyler Peck, A Month of First Crushes (Month Poems)
Whatcha watchin’?, Mathieu Bernard-Reymond
“Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love.”
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (via wordsnquotes)
by Schinako
Trauma often messes with one’s ability to say “no”.
You either consciously or subconsciously think, “I don’t want to hurt this person’s feelings” or “If I say no, then they’ll hurt me” or “It won’t really be that bad” or “I can handle this” or “I need to do this to prove myself” or “I deserve this”, or you forget that “no” is even an option.
It’s still not your fault if you didn’t say “no”, even if you think maybe you could have. It’s still not your fault. You didn’t deserve what happened to you and you didn’t bring it upon yourself. It was never your fault.
I just cried when I read this. Thank you.
the knot from which the mind awaits release (parts i-iv)(tentatively complete)
inspirational
visual poetry, if one is inclined to call it so
The author is not so inclined.
how does the author call it?
Were I to hand the sheets to some person, I would probably just say, “Here is a thing I have made.” If they were to counter with, “I see, but what is it?,” I would probably reply, “Well, it is some writing, you see. And then there are some drawings on top of it. What do you think of it?” And they would probably say, “Well, I suppose it’s okay as far as it goes, but it’s sort of a mess, don’t you think?”
And so, in conclusion, I guess I would concur with this hypothetical person, and say that at its heart it’s sort of just a mess.
well, that’s a beautiful mess.
Lupita Nyong’o photographed by Alexi Lubomirski for Mujerhoy Magazine
do you have advice for somebody who's on the verge of ending it?
Stay. Living is painful and scary, but beautiful things beyond words will happen. The only thing I feel like I can say is that I’ve attempted suicide twice, and there are times (more times than I admit to) that I find myself welling with tears because of how happy I am that I stayed on this earth. I want that for you. I want you to be so goddamn proud of yourself in making it through this that it shines through your skin. I want you to be in love with your life. You can. I know it is impossible and unreachable right now, but I’m begging you to give it some time. Get some help and give yourself some love. I would do anything to keep you here than to see you lose all these chances <3 I love you wholeheartedly, friend.
Stay.
poetry by tristamateer
this book is available here!!
saved rounds from the summer palace in beijing
Can’t keep still
Can’t still keep
Can’t speech free
Can’t free speech
Sleeping all day long
if this is final
if this is final don't come around with corpses, yellow flowers, sensitive summons on the answering machine. if this is final No purring greets you at the door Record shards in dumpsters Smash Mouth- not worth the postage. if this is final Grout stains attest to your name bones are sore, I've drunk all the beers the liquor store closes at ten. if this is final I'm sitting on a bench in the park relief, high heels that aren’t you rising “...and don’t forget to pick” falling “up the Chinese food at…” if this is final I want my forks and spoons back I spread my legs in bed- sunlight speckles on the wall or only paint chips.
a new me
caught, my cold intake breath ice-dripping stomach under floorboards and all my ghost could whisper to me:
burn the trees
looked to face of whitely-pale and obsidian eyes (god i worshipped her so with all of who i was, and my axe) she gaped her lips of oh & said:
burn the trees
i’m sorry, my love, i’m sorry more ice fell from my face and she placed her hands just under my useless cheeks she sang just for me:
burn the trees
so i got up brushed myself off (the dust had built stories in me) went outside - the sun! been so long, so long, this warmth
i smiled for the first time in years & walked away from it all with my lighter in my pocket.
Don’t wreck my flow, Edward Burtynsky
Animal Kingdom, Mariana Lopes