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You Can't Stay Angry Forever
Or So I'm Told
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@/girlglimmer (x) // @/christmas-winter (x) // fireflies - suzanne siegel // “orange and blue” - sarah jarosz // beautiful night - momcilo simic // christmas eve - julia andreevna petrova // @/hunting-brother (x) // @/bluecapsicum (x) // suzanne siegel
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YOUR HANDS ARE AS CALLUSED AS YOUR HEART AND IT MAKES YOU NO KINDER
YOU TASTE OF GRENADINE SYRUP AND SOMEONE ELSE’S DRINK. YOU ARE SUGAR AROUND THE RIM OF A COCKTAIL GLASS, SWEET WITH PROCESSED FEELINGS AND SOUR WITH THE TANG OF JEALOUSY AND SPITE.
who do you really hate?
YOU ARE THE CHEAPEST OF LIQUEURS, THE BOTTOM SHELF, THE BURN IN THE BACK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND’S THROAT AND THE SOUR APPLE SHINE ON HIS LIPS. HE SWALLOWS YOU WHOLE AND THE SHOT GLASS RATTLES EMPTY ON THE KITCHEN TABLE.
ALL WORK AND ALL PLAY MAKE JACK A MALADJUSTED BOY
YOU ARE THE CHERRY BETWEEN YOUR BEST FRIEND’S TEETH, SOAKED IN VODKA AND SOFT UNDER PRESSURE. HE HAS HAD HIS FILL OF YOUR POISON AND HE CAN TASTE THE BITTER NOTES OF INSECURITY YOU LEAVE BEHIND.
who do you really hate? you no longer recognize the person in the mirror, a ghost that followed you home; one that you built with your own two hands and fashioned in the image of you. carefully crafted, forged with beauty and grace and power.
THERE IS SUCH LOVE IN YOUR HEART TO BE GIVEN. IT OVERFLOWS, SPILLS DOWN THE SIDES OF THE BOTTLE UNTIL THE LABELS ARE MUDDIED AND YOU CAN NO LONGER DISTINGUISH YOUR OWN NAME. IT STAINS THE SLOPES OF YOUR NECK AND LEAVES A WINE-DARK GRAVE IN YOUR SHARED BED.
A LIFE LIVED HARD HAS GIVEN YOU NOTHING BUT HOLES IN EVERY PIECE OF ARMOR AND THE DESIRE FOR A LOVER TO PUSH THEIR FINGERS THROUGH EACH ONE
YOU ARE SUGAR, PURE SYRUP, AND YOUR BEST FRIEND LAPS YOU UP TO CUT THE BURN AND THE BITTERNESS. HE HAS TASTED THE WORST OF YOU AND STILL WANTS MORE.
who do you really hate? yourself? the ghost in the mirror is you, a facade built so carefully around a core that still pulses with life.
HE TAKES THE DEEPEST DRINKS FROM THE CRUCIBLE OF YOUR MOUTH. HE HAS HAD HIS FILL OF YOUR POISON, AND HE KNOWS YOU HAVE NO MORE TO GIVE. HE SIPS THE TENDERNESS FROM YOUR LIPS AND WILL NEVER TIRE OF THE TASTE.
HIS HEART IS AS CALLUSED AS YOURS, BUT HIS HANDS FEEL SOFT ON YOUR FACE
january prompt 25: syrupy
@nosebleedclub
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I looked in the mirror and did not recognize my own face
3.75" x 3.75" pen on paper
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The Moon That Turns You Back, Hala Alyan
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posts that make me want to rip my heart out part 5
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i feel like the fight/flight/freeze model of fear responses applies in the long term as well as the immediate. like in the aftermath of the event, do you lash out at every perceived instance of a threat? or do you practice avoidance, refusing to tread similar paths to the one that led you into danger before? or do you remain forever trapped in that moment, reliving it, unable to move on?
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i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point
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haunted house uquiz by streetlighthalo
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Everything in life is so goddamn temporary. Emotion, fleeting, the meaning of a song spread out over six minutes and never again experiencing it for the first time. You, my autumn stag, a conversation well into the night and then silence. I wonder if I will ever stop wanting it to stop. Wonder if the nostalgia will ever be anything but bitter, coffee grounds at the bottom of a pot left out since morning. Things were better, before, even when they were worse. It’s impossible to enjoy the now without thinking of the then, the what could’ve been, the imagine if. I don’t miss you. We still speak. It doesn’t mean it’s the same.
SHED ANTLERS // 0097
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a dog called "Grief"
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You were given teeth. Use them now and use them wisely.
i liked this ask so much i made it into a sign
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i promise i wouldn't blame you
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thin light
the light in the city every morning is bled out. we take the train in, get off in the north, and walk along the sea wall. eighteen feet of concrete, three feet wide, twenty nine miles long. if you slip, on one side you’ll fall into the gutter of chemical sludge, shell casings, rusting things and glowrats travelling along it all. on the other side, the sea will take you. in some places the waves burn on their crests and crash smoking into the wall.
we come out here to look for ships. white bones on the horizon. if we see a plane we run.
for @nosebleedclub 1.4.24
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everything begins.
everything begins.
there is always a beginning to every story.
a first page of a book.
an opening scene of a movie.
a starting note to a song.
the first time two strangers’ eyes meet.
a chance to encounter.
@nosebleedclub
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