OUR KINGDOM COME, OUR WILL BE DONE

hi i'm ricky and this is jackass [WRITES FOR A MILLION CHARACTERS]

[heavensickness]

“Then you have not only ruined my life. You have taken pleasure in doing so. (...) You have not only planted the dagger in my breast, you have delighted in twisting it.”

John Fowles, The French Lieutenant's Woman

[lifeinpoetry]

I refuse I refuse I refuse I refuse I make light I refuse I refuse I refuse I offer up my body I refuse I refuse I refuse I refuse I live I refuse I refuse I refuse I refuse I imagine elsewhere I refuse I refuse I refuse I refuse I refuse I withhold I refuse I refuse I refuse I refuse I refuse I persist I refuse I reuse I refuse            I am not         an object

— Gwen Benaway, from day/break

[lifeinpoetry]

I went to the desert for Burning Man and did not see the Man burn—the culmination, the catharsis, the highlight, the point. It was me burning, my old self, that I had been after all along. I wanted to shake it loose, my old ways, rules, teaching. I was a phoenix; I wanted to burn. I was a circle of stars, silver in the night sky. It was me: I was the spectacle in the desert I had traveled so far to see.

— Sejal Shah, from “Your Wilderness Is Not Permanent,” This Is One Way to Dance (via lifeinpoetry)

[lifeinpoetry]

Once I had turned into light, things came easily to me, things like light and more light, fire beneath the skin, eyes burned into sheets at night, the way a certain boy might kiss me.

— Catie Rosemurgy, from “My Mom’s Cobalt-Blue Glass Collection, My Favorite Apocalypse

[wishbzne-deactivated20210526]

“I Have Loved My Horrible Self, Lord. I Rose, Lord, And I Rose, Lord, And I, Dropt.”

— Olena Kalytiak Davis, from six apologies, lord

[lifeinpoetry]

I want to beg the sun to never come home. I beg the sun, do not come home. I beg the sun. I beg the sun.

Sanna Wani, from “Moon gods are not born,” published in Glass

[lifeinpoetry]

One man tells me I look sad and I think too much so I think about that, too.

I think about his good intentions. My freshly bloodied teeth.

— Ruth Awad, from “Men Compliment Me,” published in the Vida Review

[lifeinpoetry]

I have made of myself a rabbit.  I can no longer speak. Language is only the click click click of my heart  ticking faster now.

— Jenny Molberg, from “Epistle from the Hospital for Text Messaging,” Refusal

[threemothers]

“She takes it. Took it. Will take it. No one has forced her. She cannot know what it will do to her mouth, heart, eyes, eyebrows—to taste it. Call it starfruit, sex, apple, cocaine, x, whatever. Does she take it? Yes. She takes it. It tastes good to her. It tastes good to her. It tastes good to her.”

— Aracelis Girmay, “On the Shape of the Sentence,” Kingdom Animalia (via lifeinpoetry)

[antigonick]

“I couldn’t have felt her breath come upon my mouth, without wanting to kiss her. And I couldn’t have kissed her, without wanting to save her.”

— Sarah Waters, Fingersmith

[lifeinpoetry]

What comes after we hurt each other? It gets really quiet. We do or do not get out of bed. Like birds there comes an astonishment of kindnesses. Hello. Hello. Light slams into snow.

— Kerri Webster, from “Swan/Not Swan,” The Trailhead

[artificialnoises]

we live inside the sound waves transmitting a distress call on the police radio in a cop car. the cop inside the car is dead but the car is still driving and the car is on fire. because we have no hands we cant stop the car. because we have no teeth we can’t eat the cop for nourishment. because we have no eyes we cant see that everything outside of the security glass is equally on fire. because we have no mouths we cant speak to reassure each other we will stop eventually. because we have nothing we cant understand that this equally means more and less but at the same time. 

[jovialtorchlight-deactivated202]

where are we going?

i hate who i am when i am a passenger;

the screaming, the crumbling, the lashing;

the fire licking the mind, killing the last of the soul.

some unkind stranger has taken the wheel;

someone much worse.

[clementinevonradics]

“This is the house that built me and I’m gonna burn it down. This is the river I crawled from and I refuse to drown here. And bless the strippers but fuck the men. And bless the berries but fuck the farm. And bless the daughter but fuck the family. What is a home if not the first place you learn to run from? You’ve got to bite the hand that starves you, and in doing so Praise the place that birthed you. Birthed you fucked up. Birthed you ugly, and interesting, and ready to scream.”

— Courtney Love Prays To Oregon, Clementine von Radics

[ducktracy-deactivated20260315]

HELLO! PLEASED T’MEET’CHA!

[philosophybits]

“What destroys a man more quickly than to work, think, and feel without inner necessity, without any deep personal desire, without pleasure — as a mere automaton of duty?”

— Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist

[deathlessmax]