#confessionary

[confessions-and-tales]

is the toy soldier (the mechanisms) x nicola orsinov (the Magnus archives) considered self-cest?

discuss.

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[thedustyrebel]

Confessionary

Washington Square Park, NYC More Photos: Talk To Me, Confession, Random Strangers

[fortepianoman]

03 03

i’ve realized two things about myself, recently. one: it’s much easier for me to inflict pain than i wish it was or than i’d previously thought; i don’t think myself capable or important enough to cause feeling within others deeper than a scratch on the surface. two: i’ll lie through my teeth about anything to anyone and i’ll make myself believe it first. fear governs with a steady hand, it takes the shape of me and it takes on my voice, in my mind it speaks as if it wasn’t there at all. the difference between me and fear lies in what i just haven’t noticed yet, something minuscule that keeps escaping me each time i almost find it.

there’s a conclusion here and it goes like this: ive never known myself to be honest. honesty dies by fear’s hand at the altar of kindness. it dies so peace stays around so you can live. never let it be said i am not loving. there may be blood in my mouth but there’s none on my hands.

this is for everyone but it is, of course, selfishly for me.

1 i wish more than anything that i could know you but i can’t give you the same in return. if i let you see me for who i am i’m scared it would ruin you.

2 the reason we don’t make progress is i don’t enjoy you as a person. you should know this but i dug myself in too deep to let you know and you deserve better.

3 im a step away from hating you and two more from falling in love but neither will ever happen.

4 i want you all to myself, sometimes, and i resent him for taking my place.

5 you’ve become more important to me than i could express and yet, there is something revolting in the way that you want me. i wish every day it wasn’t so and i wish for someone to treat your adoration as a gift instead of a burden.

6 everything i hate about you i can see in myself and i loathe us both just the same.

7 i never knew i could miss you that much. is this how you usually feel? you’re just 5 minutes away but you’ve grown cold or at the very least i’ve lost your interest. you realize it means the world to me, i hope.

8 you. god. i’m scared ive never wanted anyone the way i want you. i’m scared im out of my depth here, that ive arbitrarily brought you to life, someone like you but different. my obsession, my own little frankenstein except if either of us is to be the monster, i think we both know it could never be you. so goes the tale. i hope i get something right here, for once. i hope i don’t stumble until you can catch me.

[confessions-and-tales]

ok, didanyone else ever pick up on the homoeroticism between bob the tomato and Larry the cucumber from veggytales or was it just me? those two were my childhbood otp long before jeditavus.

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[confessions-and-tales]

i may or may not have killed my neighbors birds on accident. the next day my dog ran off. feel as though those were related.

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[yamel72m]

Caida libre

'Todo lo que soy, lo que no; lo que articulo, lo que destruyo. Nocturna sin noche. Mi fe y mi aborrecer. Lo diáfano asiéndose a lo infame gestándose en mi mente.

Si decido detenerla tirándola de un puente, antes de ahogarse, saltaría a la primera orilla donde crea que debe confesarse.

Si la sedo, antes de desvanecerse de inconciencia le dará por garabatear una última nota socorriendo un perdón que no necesito.

Si le quito la respiración, le otorgaría tiempo de crear un leve pensamiento que elevaría el culto rendido a su precarista.

Escapar hacia adentro. ¿Es esa alguna salida?

Ten un buen día.'

Yamel Murillo

Caleidoscopio©

D.R. 2017

[aescheretalks]

Quero no amor outros domínios : uma mulher que não seja só carne e esquecimento, um copo de vinho brando da mais casta videira das palavras. Já não mais quero despertar assim com a alma toda pela boca.

I want something else from love: a woman who is not mere skin across an abyss, a nice cup of wine from the purest vine of words. I no longer want to wake up like this, with my whole soul in my mouth.

[yearner-november]

i’m stuck in this paradox right now; torn between knowing more about someone. learning their quicks, watching their reactions, watching their face morph with every expression, and staying in this little dreamy bubble of imagining them.

building them in my head seems so much more fulfilling than the reality that might not even notice me out in the street.