PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

#extradirty
Cosimo Galluzzi
wallacepolsom
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
ojovivo
trying on a metaphor
occasionally subtle
will byers stan first human second
Today's Document

⁂
taylor price
No title available
No title available
Claire Keane
Peter Solarz

No title available

blake kathryn

oozey mess
One Nice Bug Per Day

seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Czechia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from Brazil

seen from Brazil
@triplewordscor3
The moon is presumed mute—its silence is the silence of death. But when it does speak, it speaks in the language of shadows. You speak this language, too. It was your first language, our shared first language, the language of the dark. When you can’t scream in nightmares, it is the moon caught in your throat, a bright white rolling marble that garbles the voice, makes it choked and animal. Moonlight smells like chalkboard, like snowcloud, like a rock in the dirt. You can skin it with a glimpse, lay its pelt down by the hearth, and wrap yourself in its furred light. No weapons, no blood. A glimpse as it shifts in time; what a thing to witness, the full moon’s monthly resurrection.
The Hunter’s Moon is up, and “The Moon in Full” series continues at the Paris Review.
Knock
I am not a being
Of divine and shining light.
Born on a cold
January afternoon
My heart was halved;
50/50 ice and fire,
A natural disaster
That I could weaponize
As I grew.
I have the gift of cruelty,
Cutting wit that slits
Metaphorical wrists
In an instant,
Just a blink.
My brain contains
The finest laser
Genetics can build,
Zeroing in
On deep insecurities,
Leaving a peaked path
Of destruction and damage
In my power-drunken wake.
Baking fightless bones,
Flightless in cauldrons
Of my callous coldness,
Stirring, stirring
Until all the walls
Are broken down.
Do you remember
That part in Breaking Bad
Where Walt says
"I am the one who knocks!"
And Skylar stares at him
With unsettlingly
Green eyes,
Dirty fishbowls full
Of desperate disbelief?
I was looking
Into the mirror
And suddenly
Fear was upon me
Because I felt myself
Knock - knock - knocking
On the doors
Of ambiguous figures,
Undeserving of my sharp tongue,
My brutal mouth,
My savage script.
And suddenly
The sadistic dance
Of cutting down
Someone formerly deserving
Was washed
Of the black glitter
It was coated in,
Minute diamonds
Finding their righteous way
Down the shower drain
As I sat in the steam
For countless hours,
Letting my body
Scream sweat
And cleanse
The wayward way
Of my rule.
But still,
Sometimes,
When the bad side
Hitchhikes right back
Into my brain,
I wade waist-deep
Into the swamp waters
Of direct hits
And emotional gunshots,
And I hear myself knocking,
I hear myself knocking,
And I can't stop.
光严禅院 and 无漏秋山, chongzhou崇州, chengdu, sichuan province
Happy 29th Bearthday, Bea.
5 years ago, I destroyed myself. I broke myself down. I went so far deep into my pain, I could not see a way out. I wandered the streets aimlessly, in tears - talking to myself. I harmed myself, physically and laughed as I watched myself bleed. i destroyed my safe space. When I woke the next day after that night, I was still in pain. I was sore from the previous nights self harm, but I realized I didn’t want to die. I just didn’t want to be alone inside my grief, inside my ptsd, inside myself.... I didn’t want to be by myself. 50 minutes shy of my birthday, I am emotional. I am so happy to be alive. So happy to be allowed another trip.
I've evolved so much, in what is seemingly such a short amount of time. I found myself in the nooks and crannies of all that pain and resentment I harbored. I came out ahead of all the things that were supposed to make me less than what I am. I am a necessary fixture of this existence. Individually, we are but a drop a water in an infinite sea of rarities, I’m pleased to just be a drop.
I celebrate myself this evening leading into the day I came to be; for my tenacity. My perseverance, my heart and soul, my entire being. Even on the days that I forget, deep down-- I know what I possess.
Happy Bearthday, Bea. You are loved & cherished for who you are- right now.
Spirited Away (2001) dir. Hayao Miyazaki