CONSUME,

god, please consume me with acedia! sideblog to hredia.

[q-a13-blog]

[rockexplorer-blog]

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Soap&Skin - Sugarbread

[lifeinpoetry]

all i am is wounded mouth / when i open it, i can swallow the town

Diane Seuss, from “I Look at My Face in a Red Mylar Balloon Tied to a Mailbox,” Still Life with Two Dead Peacocks and a Girl (via comachild)

[dying-dog]

[rad-is-more]

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[outcrying]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

My beauty, the corpse I carry inside me.

Maria Polydouri, tr. by Manolis Aligizakis, from “Party,” wr. c. July 1928 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[mr-warmth]

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[lifeinpoetry]

Your body is a drain. An evacuation. The opened aorta that spills. And spills This is a new undoing. You. Standing wide over bathroom tiles. Your good legs, a red massacre. There is not enough cotton to pack this wound. You mop the tide with the nice towels your mother sent. The blood rises, drowns the marble of your toes, steeps your anklebones in a thick aroma of meat.Such easy murder. Your press your stained hands to your breasts. How long since anyone has taken them in their mouth?

Jeanann Verlee, from “As Your Body Becomes an Invitation,” Said the Manic to the Muse (via lifeinpoetry)

[markvomit]

[vhspositive]

[lifeinpoetry]

I’m becoming more a vessel of memories than a person

Kaveh Akbar, from “Heritage,” Calling a Wolf a Wolf (via lifeinpoetry)

[lifeinpoetry]

Yet in those few times I touched him / knowing one thing unfolded us both, it was my history beneath me, / my hands at least touching its skin

Katie Ford, from “The Vessel Bends the Water,” colosseum (via lifeinpoetry)

[leaveful]

[lifeinpoetry]

And what language exists with no word for blood? What gets across the legend as quickly as blood?

— Julian Randall, from “Biracial Ghazal: Why Everything Ends in Blood,” Refuse

[misssang-deactivated20160523]

[markvomit]