keep-this-place-beautiful
Keep This Place Beautiful
“Try, and promise you willI will not go if you’re still hereThe truthIs so depressing I will not go if you’re still here”- Brick + Mortar
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Things I Don’t Say to a Therapist.
how often i think about [_]
how last week crossing the street I wanted to [_] & close my eyes
how I pressed [_] against my forearm, called it both dull and sacred, [_] i took from someone else for safety
how scared i am to die
how scared i am everyone i love will die.
#keepthisplacebeautiful#gothic americana#liminalcore#rural gothic#southern gothic#usedcore#chaoscore#nostalgia#feralcore
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I’ve specialized in [redacted].
I have to believe this time is different.
#keepthisplacebeautiful#gothic americana#liminalcore#feralcore#rural gothic#usedcore#chaoscore#nostalgia#southern gothic
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There is a town in Germany that shares a zip code with a town in Texas like map twins.
I wonder if sometimes someone in a Saginaw suburb feels unspeakable grief for no reason when their German parallel loses their love. If it works both ways.
There’s a language to missing people, missing love, missing posters with blocky text. In the comment section, I hope you find your. Im still looking for. He was last seen in. Im sorry it ended this way. I hope there was closure. I hope you find answers. I hope you find peace. I hope you find. I hope you know. I hope.
I still look in the comments sometimes, the commiseration of those left to miss the missing, still in between not knowing and relief, and I’ve already been released.
#keepthisplacebeautiful#gothic americana#rural gothic#southern gothic#nostalgia#liminalcore#feralcore#usedcore#yellowmissingsigns#namus
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#keepthisplacebeautiful
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#liminalcore#rural gothic#southern gothic#keepthisplacebeautiful#feralcore#gothic americana#usedcore#chaoscore#nostalgia
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A List of Things Found (Not Comprehensive, Subject to Change):
A broken camera, several pairs of underwear, hope for love.
Spatula, kitchen knife, the memory of the dinners I ruined in blackouts.
Part of a mobile phone, 3-5 rubber gloves (once sterile, no longer), the image of black blood pooled on rocks.
A single crutch, a threadbare flag, an incomprehensible ache.
Broken tiles (3) in 1950s institutional green, a deep breath, the feeling of sunlight on my skin.
Boxing glove, pink balloon ("It's a girl!"), a promise whispered in my ear.
A lonely molded work glove, one (1) dead raccoon (probably), a slight knowledge of self.
MSU branded soft cooler, antique candle snuffer, a sacred place to unspool grief.
The cold smell of rotted wood and brackish water, a sadness for the domesticated remnants of yards eroding into the wild down the banks, a sinkhole in miniature.
Headless, shattered baby doll, Mardi Gras beads shaped like wheels, comfort from twigs and leaves tangled into my hair.
Tiny forests of moss, a ladybug, the gentle caress of a sun-warmed, floral breeze.
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I hope this email finds you
unwell
lost
alone
i hope this email finds you
unloved
confused
afraid
i hope this email finds you
unknown
despondent
ashamed
i hope this email finds you in time
just checking in
just wanted to ask...
just thinking of you!
just a mix of nothing deep
exclamation point so you know it's light
period, better not be too light
just, just this once
let there be justice
tzedek, tzedek tirdof
just this once
zochreinu l'chayim
#keepthisplacebeautiful#southern gothic#gothic americana#rural gothic#plague years#cottagegore#photography#goblincore
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"silver strung guitars say / hear me when i call / hear me when i come in late / you're wide awake / i'm sorry is not enough / i'm sorry i'm not enough to stay"
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youtube
"
There's nothing to do here
Some just whine and complain
In bed at the hospital
Coming and going
Asleep and awake
In bed at the hospital
Tell me the story
Of how you ended up here
I've heard it all in the hospital
Nurses are fussin'
Doctors on tour
Somewhere in India
I got one friend
Laying across from me
I did not choose him
He did not choose me
We got no chance of recovery
Sharing hospital, joy and misery
The joy and misery, the joy and misery
Put out the fire boys, don't stop don't stop
Put out the fire on us
Put out the fire boys, don't stop don't stop
Put out the fire on us
Bring your buckets by the dozens
Bring your nieces and your cousins
Come put out the fire on us
Vietnam fishing trips
Italian opera
Vietnam fishing trips
Italian opera
I got one friend laying across from me
I did not choose him, he did not choose me
We've got no chance of recovery
Sharing hospital joy and misery
The joy and misery
The joy and misery
The joy, the joy, the joy, misery
Put out the fire boys, don't stop don't stop
Put out the fire on us
Put out the fire boys, don't stop don't stop
Put out the fire on us
Bring your buckets by the dozens
Bring your nieces and your cousins
Come put out the fire on us"
#keepthisplacebeautiful#liminal tumblr#liminalcore#chaoscore#feralcore#chaotic aesthetic#usedcore#hospital beds#cold war kids
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youtube
Countdown 'til you come off your rails
And it ain't going well
You've been running up bills
You had to cancel your cards for shooting out street lamps while shooting at stars
Now your credit is falling
Heard it booming at parties, whispered in homes
The pundits on the radio won't leave it alone
I heard it once, heard it twice
Heard it well enough to tell
They say the mission to Mars, is destined to fail now
Climb down to the edge of your rope
Got a letter 'bout a month ago from control
They say we're coming down hard
We locked our keys in our cars
Or got booted at bars and now the movement is lost
So we blowing up God's phone
Pray he get us off hold soon
Bought our own space but our asses are frozen
Blow enough smoke to punch a hole in the ozone
And all you say is we should've stayed home
Fading, faded, we never made it, faded
Traded for your replacement
Faded we never made it
Watchu tryna be lately?
Climb down to the edge your seat
They say that viewership for launch is up by 50 this week
We changed the format completely, cut the filler for meat
It's just blood on your TV making killings for free
The ticket lines are past the sign down at the end of the street
Meet and greet, VIPs go a million a piece
We delayed the show for entry and so expired on the lease
Now we're gonna re-release it, T.B.D
Change the title to Fuck You
It's what you want it to be
When you know it only pay to make nice
Pack your shit and standby, please
Your friends are trying to leave and get high
Countdown 'til you come off your rails
They said the mission to Mars is doing pretty well
I heard it once, heard it twice, I heard everybody tell
They say the mission to Mars is destined to sell out
#keepthisplacebeautiful#gothic americana#southern gothic#rural gothic#cosmic horror#existential dread#liminalcore#weirdcore#feralcore#rks#rks lyrics#rainbow kitten surprise#mission to mars
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Pesach, Jones County, Twilight.
What happened once upon a time, happens all the time.
The bakery, the deli, the way I don't notice bad things. The way all the 1994 teenage girls are so pretty, and so is the jell-o, all things are magic.
I am not yet cold all the time. The smell of the cleaning aisle makes my heart soar. I like to count the cracks and tiles, step carefully. I am obsessed with garbage disposals and death. I have watched the OJ Simpson chase, I have fallen in love with the fluffy hair of the kind looking woman on Headline news.
There are sand dunes on Garden Street and once I saw a skeleton, bleached white in the Florida sun. A little fox. This is where Mom had a heat stroke. This is where I remember blinding fear.
Sun has soaked into the ground and now heat seeps back into the twilight hours, not cool, but a loss of heat that sends a shiver over your arms anyway. The moon is eternal, even when it fragments.
How am I not the protagonist in my own narrative?
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It’s not waking up on the wrong side of the bed, it’s waking up in the Timeline for the Already Defeated.
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No no no this is fine everything is fine
my chronic illnesses are laughing hysterically
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The worst part about living with myself is that I kept all four of my wisdom teeth but never remember where I’ve put them, and for whatever reason they are all in separate locations. Surprise! Human tooth.
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Vignette 0.3
It takes a few hours after the call to figure out how to get to you. The ICU has rules, and we defer to authority. Still, once I understand the rules, I am there, listening the machines beep and hum for half an hour, listening to your whimpers as you breathe for a tube (is it breathing for you? I’m afraid to ask.). Occasionally your hand squeezes mine. I want to ascribe meaning to the feeling, Some of the visitors lay hands on you and pray. I can’t, or don’t. I don’t think God is listening, but you might be, so my prayer is to whisper in your ear until the sympathetic-looking nurses shoo me away. I love you, I love you, I love you, over again, it is the only prayer I know right now, and in that dark room I can’t believe anyone but you hear me.
On the third day, the tube is gone, and you say you’re melting, rotting, that you can’t live like this. I know that it’s medication, the trauma, your brain doesn’t work right, and probably won’t again, not unless they can manage the swelling and they haven’t yet, so I can’t explain that you’re not really rotting and have you understand me.
I say, your face looks fine, and touch your cheek.
God might not let me get away with this.
But I know you can’t tell dying people that God isn’t listening, so I say, I will love you while you’re still here, and your hand squeezes mine again.
I love you is the only prayer I know, and Tuesday morning the call comes, I know the words coming through the phone, the words intracranial pressure and CSF leakage, but I can’t make them make sense, until I ask, are you saying…?
And they are.
I love you is the only prayer I know. It’s never going to be answered.
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