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My head isn't right.
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from the way i look
after i’m split open
you’d never know:
i was born a baby.
chaim soutine, carcass of beef & flayed rabbit / daphne gottlieb, slut
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Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”, Leaves of Grass
[Text ID: “I too am not a bit tamed, I too am
untranslatable,”]
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Hanif Abdurraqib, They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us
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It's like my heart is swollen and beaten, above that a grip to crush my lungs and suffocate me just enough to be dying slowly.
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Dear tumblr, I lost contact with myself, I cannot simply be me anymore or so it seems, it's been a while, I'm getting used to it in a sad miserable way, but the question is will I be able to find me again ?
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Yorgos Lanthimos, ‘The Lobster’ (Poster detail). 2015.
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