// batter muse is rising from the dead shocking everyone and no one at the same time

“ May God damn the sinners with the bold nerve to proclaim those accusations, and forgive the fools that believe them : amen. ━━━ Want a sprite, spectre? “

❝      you  guys  keep  calling  me  cute  but  underneath  this  skin  i’m  actually  a  looming  monstrosity  of  the  lowest  ring  in  hell  .      ❞

 ❛ I believe we’re in need of your services. ❜  ❛ Many people are in need of my services, you know. Everybody loves cats. ❜

there is a bullet in my mouth

Safia Elhillo, from Home Is Not a Country; “Yasmeen”

Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

HELLO   !      Please      LIKE      or   /   and   REBLOG      this   post   if   you’d   be   interested   in   interacting   with      THE   JUDGE    from   OFF  .      Written  by   ROBIN .

Send a ‘📝’ to see what plot I’d like to do with our muses.

“God, how painful it is, being angry.”

— Simone de Beauvoir, tr. by Justin O’Brien, from “The Woman Destroyed,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

"if holy is as holy does, this house will burn straight down to hell." (from lester to the batter!)

" then let it. "

His eyes are steeled and unwavering as he looks at Lester. it wasn't a glare, no, it was just a look. staring dark eyes ( black hair, black eyed. beady like a bird of prey. he was comparable in more ways than one. ) lock to Lester, and it's calm. it's morbidly calm. it's the kind of calm that makes you worried, the kind of calm that makes a mothers adrenaline spike when you see those kinds of eyes on TV, the kind of calm that could be just as harmless as it could be dangerous in equal measure.

he stares, and it's a beat ― beat ― beat, before the moment breaks. the steel creeks under it's weight of eyes like his ( he always looked so intense, didn't he? a face as jagged as marble. like he was always moments away from breaking someone's jaw or eating someone he loved whole because that's what you do when you love something right? / you rip it apart with your front teeth / canines / and hope it understands why you're doing this. ― he reminds himself he is not helping with a mind like this. ) and his gaze drops from Lester / staring him between the eyes like an iron-sight on weapons hes not allowed to own anymore / to the black baseball cap scrunched in his hands. he's been wearing it more and more often, lately. it's nothing good, / but rarely is it ever, he reminds himself distantly.

that's how he apologizes, you know. he breaks his stare. you see, men like him are always much too prideful ( & much too stubborn / fearful / broken ) to apologize for things like these, things at all. he breaks his gaze, his gaze like marble, his gaze like raptors, and it's how he says sorry. ― sorry, i don't know how to respond the right way yet ― i haven't learnt that yet ― i hate remembering i'm being teached ― i don't hate the teacher ― sorry,

he fiddles with it in his hands, his nervous, worrisome, claw-nailed bruised hands. he adjusts the straps in the back of the hat. he wonders, distantly, if he'll remember the right adjustment for it to fit just right / he guesses not

" ...That's just another way of saying 'do as i say, not as i do'. " its a question, but you wouldn't know that / no one would / no one knows him, after all / that's why you love him / that's why you'll leave him behind. / no one knows him, and neither do i / sorry,

from stream of consciousness II by silas denver melvin, published in primal patchwork

click for better quality

Clarice Lispector, tr. by Ronald W. Sousa, The Passion According to G.H.

Joy Harjo, In an Interview by Krista Tippett

Karese Burrows, “Persephone Writes a Poem” // Richard Siken, “A Primer for the Small Weird Loves”

Anna Akhmatova, tr. by Lenore Mayhew and William Mcnaughton, from Poem Without A Hero and Selected Poems; “In a dream”

“Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment