viscerealities

[asrielsarchive]

[viscerealities]

siddharthasmama:

[goldbay]

[madisen]

i hope you guys can see the complexity of this piece. read once all the way through, then read it excluding the words in parentheses, and then read only the words in parentheses :) (this is what i do to avoid math) (it was so difficult and took me forever) (appreciate it please omg)

[1924us-deactivated20150317]

i don’t want that. Not to be your every thought your every pulse, i don’t want to hinder you or surround you. i want to be the soft song in the background to the moments you spend alone, thinking of nothing at all.

Rakishi, “So goes the smoke” (via 1924us)

[veritasia-deactivated20140724]

I am a stone wall. I am the hidden saviour crouching in clean dust, forgetting the name of my sick god and pasting yours in its place I am the Kevlar coating that you were promised, a golden mutation springing from a chemical attack with nowhere to go. I am the sixteen silver bullets that...

[proustitute]

Science— beyond pheromones, hormones, aesthetics of bone, every time I make love for love’s sake alone, I betray you.

Katherine Larson, from “Love at Thirty-Two Degrees” (via proustitute)

[thegirlwhocrieswolf]

Three Questions by Lang Leav

[sincerelyjoanna-blog-blog]

[nevver]

Literary Criticism

[viscerealities]

melting

When you look at me there's ice in your eyes

harsh, cold, impenetrable

you scrape off my layers and make your way down

through the age-rings

straight into the very core of my being.

I can tell that you see it, if barely

you're catching glimpses of my life, my soul

the countless men who came before

you

the scratches, the burns, the voices in my ear.

Have you felt their touch?

The fingers of men with money to burn

and an overgrown need to destroy.

The weeds of society, their tendrils unfurling

upwards along my limbs

pulling me down

trapping me

there's darkness and heat, and anger

in the way that they speak to me.

Why do I exist? why

am I so beautiful, they ask me;

such a pretty little thing.

To them, birds with broken wings are the only kind with value.

Why invest in something that can fly away?

You might call me Icarus, but the truth is

I never got the chance to fall.

[viscerealities]

not even England

I'll never belong

in these worlds of yours,

your rooms with too-high ceilings,

with plaza ballrooms and a lobby

the pretty receptionist says your name and you can't help but wink at her.

Is this what you do to all the boys you find?

Bring them along into your life

clean them up and dirty them again, but this time

with your own hands.

You want me. I can see that

as clearly as the moment I met you

you want to claim me, to put a mark on me

something that everyone will see

and, in seeing, will know

that I belong to you.

Silly man. A whore belongs to no one

and to everyone

we are the martyrs, our bodies the altar

for your worship

and we the sacrifice

to please your gods.

When we fuck there's no grace to it

we crash against each other and I can tell

this isn't love. It's frustration

you want to love me but you can't

and you know that I will never love you

for I have never loved anything

nor anyone.

[viscerealities]

background

your fingers

are not the digits of a pimp,

not manipulative, no rings circling the puffy flesh;

your nails are blunt and unmanicured

they look better caked with dirt than

shiny and clean

When you place those fingers around my wrist I wonder

do you know

that those bones have been broken more times than I can count?

the wrist is the weakest joint. At least

that's how it feels to me;

but it's alright

I have another hand, I don't need this one.

and if they're really angry I can still use my mouth, my lips

my tongue

the tongue that tells you everything and nothing all at once,

the mouth that spins out stories of evil men and dark rooms

the lips that itch to press themselves against your skin

not for money, but

maybe out of curiosity.

You've made me a terrible whore.

[veritasia-deactivated20140724]

Ludicrously folded me around

you, and resolved to hermetically seal up

your cuts. Your bruises. The fragmented

sliced up shattered ribs that didn’t heal properly

and stuck inside you like sick and reminded me

of me. Covered your eyes and closed a fist

around your thin and breaking wrist....

[viscerealities]

your skin is drawn across your shoulders like canvas on a frame

muscles and sinew are the wire

scar tissue the paint

a brilliant spectrum

of almost-white to too-white

there is a certain sublimity

in the way you carry your damaged form.

These marks of devotion

and sacrifice

I'll worship them in place of the non-believers. Placing my tongue

at right angles along your shoulderblades

my fingers will seek out your palms

the blood you've spilt tastes better

than anything produced on a vine.

Shall I be your Judas? or perhaps

I am to be Isaac, or Joseph;

I could even be Belial

but only if you wished it of me.

[viscerealities]

I never thought that you

would know your way around the jungle.

You don't step

heavily

with crashing footfalls, like the other men;

your body is like a panther's

you are strong. So strong

but your skin speaks more than you do

it tells me that you are hurting

and in the way your eyes flash

I can tell

you are searching for something

something that

you've long since forgotten

Do you expect me to find it?

Is that why you brought me along?

You give me no answers, but

you don't lie to me, either.

I don't think you realize

you're the first to do that

to me.

[viscerealities]

you say you want to take me home

but you've forgotten home does not exist

not for me, at least.

the trees crash around us

the animal instinct that fills this country beats within my body

they chase us, and I chase after you.

I remember suddenly how terrible the sky is

how vast, how full of nothing

I try not to think of drowning as I press my face into your chest.

we walk along the city streets, pretending to have second skins

my act is the truth, yours is anything but.

you could have all the women in the world

with your too-bright eyes and silken ties

yet you chose me, the broken fairy.

in the night i see the tip

of your cigarette flaring

amber in the dark, and I wonder

how it feels to be held between your lips,

whether it's a safe place,

if perhaps you take value into your mouth and

hold it there.