hush, my sweet, these tornados are for you

hi, i'm charlie and it takes guts to be gentle and kind main: sewnscar goodreads: charlieshaw

[shahmah]

excerpt of an essay by charlie shaw 

[sophocls]

charlie, how do you stay sane in the middle of sadness?

i think this is hard to answer bc everyone is completely different and copes differently. for me it’s super important for me to try to keep myself occupied- even if that just means watching it’s always sunny or pasting things into my journal, or just reading book reviews with my mom. just getting out of bed is rlly important. like sometimes i’ll take the bus to the library and just hang out there and listen to podcasts or read poetry on tumblr. if you need anymore specific advice or anything feel free to message me on my main blog @sewnscar . also sorry this took so long for me to reply to, i actually got dumped abt a week ago so i’ve been pretty sad myself

[helloagauniverse]

“I want you to know that it is not always easy to love me. That sometimes my chest is a field full of landmines, and where you went last night, you can’t go tomorrow. There is no manual, there is no road map, no help line you can call; my body does not come with instructions, and sometimes even I don’t know what to do with it. This cannot be easy. But still, you touch me anyway.”

— Ivan E. Coyote (via thelovejournals)

[adirabennett2-blog]

Remember: he opened you on the dissection board and he studied your most tender pieces with his teeth and his fist.

Adira Bennett, excerpt of poem Remember

[thespineanditstingle]

Sappho Lobel-Page 147, transl. Anne Carson

[haloshard]

“May you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you — haunt me then.”

— Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

[lifeinpoetry]

Even in poetry I forgive you nothing not even your new empire of grief.

— Hera Lindsay Bird, from “Wild Geese by Mary Oliver,” Hera Lindsay Bird

[flowercavities]

when the bough breaks, Andrea Gibson

[flowercavities]

parts from Boot Theory by Richard Siken

[days-of-reading]

On April 20, 1970, the poet Paul Celan left his home in Paris, walked to a bridge over the River Seine, and jumped to his death. He left a biography of Hölderlin open on his desk, with the following words underlined: Sometimes this genius goes dark and sinks down into the bitter well of his heart. The sentence does not end there. Celan chose not to underline the rest: but mostly his apocalyptic star glitters wondrously.

Maggie Nelson, The Red Parts: a Memoir (via nemophilies)

[days-of-reading]

Maggie Nelson, Bluets

[lifeinpoetry]

This is how I will always remember you: trembling like an antelope brought down by arrows, asking the arrows if it’s okay to bleed.

— Jeremy Radin, from “A Pyramid of Bison,” Slow Dance with Sasquatch

[lifeinpoetry]

almost      willing to be eaten alive if it means feeling weightless again

— Christie West, from “Body Say What It Feels Like,” published in Vagabond City

[flowercavities]

something I wrote while inpatient

[giggle]

“When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it’s safe inside your mouth.”

— Jodi Picoult, Handle With Care (via wordsnquotes)

[kmarx]

José Olivarez, from my therapist says make friends with your monsters

[wetlimbs-blog-blog]

  in a past life i was stillborn, baptized by grief. i’m always 

                                              feeling guilty for what i don’t quite recall.

       mama

i’m paying for it 

i’m paying