oh, drunken gods of slaughter

• jai • daydreamer • writer •

[nixscriptum]

less of a poem, more of a reminder. ( ఌ )

[majestativa]

But you would [...] bite her shoulder wanting entrance to her blood.

— Erica Jong, How to Save Your Own Life, (1977)

[derangedrhythms]

She walks and nightingales go mad with grief,

Pavel Vasilyev,  20th Century Russian Poetry: Silver and Steel; from ‘Lines in Honor of Natalya’, tr. David Macduff

[nixscriptum]

[feral-ballad]

Tawanda Mulalu, from Please Make Me Pretty, I Don't Want to Die: Poems; “All we got was autumn. All we got was winter”

[nixscriptum]

[geryone]

DEAR GOD. DEAR BONES. DEAR YELLOW., Noor Hindi

[themakeupbrush]

Gaurav Gupta

[geryone]

The Bees Have Been Canceled, Maya C. Popa

[geryone]

In the Current Where Drowning Is Beautiful, Abigail Chabitnoy

[lacetulle]

Gaurav Gupta | Sirens Rising

[geryone]

Muzzle, Rivka Clifton

[geryone]

Daddy, Jake Byrne

[majestativa]

The enchantress of light.

HANANE AAD (حنان عاد) — Banquet of Mercy for the Universe, transl. by Peter Waugh & Hanane Aad, (2022)

[geryone]

Daddy, Jake Byrne

[lacetulle]

Gaurav Gupta | Sirens Rising

[derangedrhythms]

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles