I’m nothing more then myself,
Selves are nothing more to me,
Im myself and nothing more,
More of myself would be nothing,
But in the growth of ourselves,
We find pieces,
Of the selves we lost,
I becomes me,
Ourselves would become all there is,
And all there is would be ourselves,
What there is, ourselves would be,
And ourselves might become.
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Inspecting every part of me
Like a rare species of beetle
Under a microscope
I know my eyes have the same green colour
But that doesn't make me a more interesting lover
I know you try to dissect me
Trying to make this insect in my mind free
Hoping you can catch it, before I snatch it
And leaving you with nothing again
Only words hanging onto butterfly wings
Silky threads, spinning inside your head
Leaving you on read,
I'm not catchable my friend.
-Tischa
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Gasping for air,
I claw at the earth
Grasping for heat
I touch the waters surface,
There is no sense in the existence around me,
Because all i can think of is how it feels to have you surround me,
Eternally binded in heaps of knots,
Red velvet caked up rope,
Trapping me in a romantic trope,
wishing it ever stops.
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All the people are insane
Looking through the glass of shame
I wane in this existence of pain
Cars driving by in the rain
Every day is the same
In the endless pit we fall,
Not able to hold anything at all
When will we end up
On the verge to stand up
Never to look back again
Dreaming with us to plan
Even rabbits will follow swift
Realising it's all a myth
Leaving everything behind
And let us feed our mind
Need I to remind we,
Deemed rightly.
"As a mad man once said
It's all in our head."
-Tischa
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You’re so obsessed with finding someone to love you because you can’t love yourself.
Unknown (via thoughtkick)
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forever thinking about this poem from june jordan’s haruko love poems…. i sadly don’t own a physical copy of this book but i’m sure that if i ever were to hold one it would slip through my hands just like the body of an ancient ghost would do
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The brilliance of your eyes strikes me again,
Somehow forgotten since the day before;
The depths and palettes far too grand
To memorize in just the moments when
I see your face and think of nothing more
Than wading through swirls of misty lands:
Gray mountains hit by rays of dawn,
A midday storm with sunlight strands,
Lakes lined by sand, fog come ashore.
So forgive me when I seem far and gone;
getting lost was not my plan.
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i am a simple creature. every day i am sleepy
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As I grow older, I pay less attention to what men say. I just watch what they do.
Andrew Carnegie (via perfectquote)
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— I'm glad your sickness, Marina Tsvetaeva (translated from the Russian by Elaine Feinstein)
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“The greatest pleasure isn’t sex, but the passion with which it is practiced. — Paulo Coelho”
— (via ms–class)
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The faint yellow beams
Which softly cut through the curtains
Tell me it is morning again
Yet i cannot rise
Because i did not sleep
Too lost in thoughts of being without you
The warmth from the orange light
Reminds me today is new
And i cannot drag you with me again
I have to restart and refresh
As if i were a new day
Arising from a dark before.
—k.l (escapril day 1-dawn)
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an excerpt from my substack
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— Han Kang, The Vegetarian
[text ID: I want to swallow you, have you melt into me and flow through my veins.]
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Time Is a Mother, Ocean Vuong
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