There's a bluebird in my heart.

"Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call."- Sylvia Plath मैं दिल्ली से हूँ

[kitlayfield]

[kitlayfield]

[kitlayfield]

Hey Sarah!

[tepid-poetry]

A gif of my co-worker made by my other co-worker! Wahoo

[thatwetshirt]

[tepid-poetry]

Don't Forget

It’s hard to get the stink of my own undesirability out

I often find myself saying “this is it, here’s rock bottom” but somehow it pushes down again and again

Maybe this is a case of mistaken identity

[tepid-poetry]

Thoughts, Kind Of

I didn’t come home to find my father wearing a backpack made of stone. I didn’t even have a father to begin with. Well, of course I had one once upon a time but he’s dead and gone. Dead to me, at least. I came home from school one day to find my mother not making chai. That was odd, because she always made chai. She said we were out. How about that. It was only the worst day of my life and we were out of chai. Winters in Colorado are so odd. I just never got them. They’re incredibly sunny and incredibly cold and there’s always pounds and pounds of snow everywhere. Is snow measured in pounds? I don’t know if it is. Anyway, there’s a lot of snow. I like to waste my time sitting in cafes like every Angel-Headed-Hipster in the Starry Dynamo of the Machinery of Night. I also like to waste my time memorizing Allen Ginsberg poems.

I wish I could write but my wrists are broken.

[tepid-poetry]

Terrible ideas.

[tepid-poetry]

persephone: i really can't stay

hades: but baby it's cold outside

[carryonanyway]

I want to love, but my hair smells of war and running and running.

Warsan Shire  (via arbors)

[tepid-poetry]

Depression

my back is being thinly sliced splayed out to reveal every little inadequate vertebrate in my spine.

[howitzerliterarysociety-deactiv]

If heaven isn’t a great coffee shop overhanging every single galaxy simultaneously where one can look out the window and see infinite mysteries in instantaneous explanation then I don’t know…

(via howitzerliterarysociety)

[tepid-poetry]

I was Rejected From My Dream College, So Here Are Haikus on Swarthmore, PA

1. Too many tiny, Uninspiring cafés For my tepid brain. 2. I am always an Occasional sorceress In such hallowed halls. 3. Protest mistreatment Of the undocumented! I'll hide behind them. 4. I've forgotten how To sin in elitist hell When I'm unwelcome.

[tepid-poetry]

Papa

Father put two hands firmly on my shoulders And held me down. Whiskey breath corroding the paper skin of eyelids I Shut my eyes, tight, And turned that other cheek. Goosebumps strangling skin I stood tall, on, Toes wriggling out of cocoons, I wish I could have Sprouted wings And flown away. I think, I am taught this, this Grinding of soul into pavement as he bruises Arm and ego Afraid to let me go in one solid piece, As if I could be taken By the wind.

[tepid-poetry]

First Communion

Breathe in, hold, Forget exhaling, Keep breathing In, in, in; I am awake. Nostrils flaring, I Take in the Curves of her spine Fingering the mountain Ridges one by one, My palms trembling With the weight of green-eyed Sunflowers basking In the shame of The night.

You too would forget.

[tepid-poetry]

Put.The.Seatbelt.Down

Unwarranted defeat Crux of his silence Sickening, sweet I back up the truck, slowly Leaving space for it all To explode, ballooning, Breaking cartilage with The fist of hunger It swoons Holding me down by the collarbone Pushing back and forth Until I have nothing left But hyper-vigilant dreams.

[lovingsylvia]

Sylvia and Ted “interrupted in a spat,” Chalot Square, London, July 25, 1960 photographed by Hans Beacham for a portfolio of images of British writers

"They were sullen. Hughes was rude. He was going to get more attention than she, and she didn’t like that while he did. He invited me outside and told me I needed to know that he loathed photographers". Hughes particularly wanted to keep Plath out of the way. "His wish, of course, forced me to photograph them together", Beacham said; and later; Hughes acknowledged that he had been "an ogre."

—Diane Middlebrook, Her Husband: Hughes and Plath-a Marriage, 2003

[erica-the-kitty-deactivated2016]

Somebody posted these all around school, and now I know what it feels like to be proud of ones school.