FORSAKEN

And didn't he go down in the dark for too long?

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Else Lasker-Schüler, tr. by Michael Hamburger, from “Georg Grosz,” written c. June 1917 (x)

[lifeinpoetry]

I saw the

dark of the night and I wanted it. desire for a

dark thing was a dark thing in me.

— Shay Vera-Cruz, from “Hollowing,” published in Bombus Press

[zarathustra-would-be-proud]

[poisonedeweth]

all i want // walk the moon

[poisonedeweth]

i hate my work but i’m in control–

killer // the hoosiers

[booksqouted]

Suffering is like anything else. Live with it long enough, you learn to like the taste.

Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom (via booksqouted)

[booksqouted]

Grief is like a splinter deep into every fingertip; to touch anything is torture.

Erin Kelly, Broadchurch (via booksqouted)

[lifeinpoetry]

… what I am aches in me.

Fernando Pessoa, from “I See Boats Moving,” Selected Poems (via lifeinpoetry)

[lifeinpoetry]

are you still happening there, in your body?

Joy Katz, from “December, Fever,” All You Do Is Perceive (via lifeinpoetry)

[darshanasuresh]

Tell me, Atlas. What is heavier: The world or its people’s hearts?

Darshana S, Atlas still stands but does anyone else? (via darshanasuresh)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Your heart is raw and bleeding. Everything is strange and terrible.

Vasily Grossman, tr. by Robert Chandler, from “Everything Flows,” (via daughterofchaos)

[lifeinpoetry]

Dear terror, / I came looking and I find you everywhere.

Camille Rankine, from “Dear Enemy:,” Incorrect Merciful Impulses (via lifeinpoetry)

[lifeinpoetry]

I am badlands, red dust, war-torn. / I am torn. I am torn.

Logan February, from “Self-Portrait as Damaged Goods,” published in The Shallow Ends (via lifeinpoetry)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I can only speak of dark things.

Ingeborg Bachmann, tr. by Eavan Boland, from “To Speak of Dark Things,”  (via blogtruenorth)

[xshayarsha]

Fui. Non sum. […] I was. I am not.

William Faulkner, from The Sound and the Fury. (via xshayarsha)

[serialstranger]

“Deeply I go down into myself. My god is Dark and like a webbing made of a hundred roots that drink in silence.”

— Rainer Maria Rilke

[windsought-deactivated20181102]

You clumsy bootlegger…I gifted you the will of gunpowder, a matchstick tongue, and all you managed was a shredded sweater and a police warning? You should be legend by now. Boy in an orange jumpsuit, a headline.                               ind. Yasuo of League ( canon div., semi selective )                                             art cred. / banner cred.