Identityfication

A comparison of equals is a sum of assembly; a treaty between personally different flags waving the same, white one, to gain an other additional component. The simile of your smile is as a method to metaphorize a moment that lasts forever in metamorphose see: it wouldn’t be worth the worth if it wouldn’t transform :(from the negative): to the positive through an influence of contrasting communication. Tale telling the same story to an other is with every another a different one -or two (counting in subjects instead of objects) and repetition repetition is to rehearse the inert of awareness of the rehearsal to remember to repeat to plots our patterns, which without iteration would wind up rewinding the unknown. Finding is not a consequence of searching. It is simply, primitively, concurring unconsciously in consciousness.

Caravaggio, The Incredulity of St. Thomas (detail), c.1601

Lucio Fontana,  Spatial Concept, 1960

Thanatos

It’s not you. it’s me. I feel like a hybrid human. The only of its kind that ties a brick to the gas petal and prays constantly for a cliff. Prayer like a postcard with no return address. And maybe there are more like me, more with steal in their bloodstream, a lit match for a spine, organs turning to mush, stones under the skin. I am racing towards thanatos, I am moving in with him soon. Pieces of me are missing and my skin keeps healing over. The body regenerates, no one told it how to stop. Everyone I’ve ever loved rests in peace now. I’m not allowed to call them home. Can the dead remember? Does their hair still grow?

Something in here smells like rotting flesh. It’s not me, it’s you.

how I like to bargain

A homeless man sold me a paperclip and now I’m broke

but I’m held together

let me do something strong for you I fit neatly in an envelope with extra stamps

you can watch me from the window of a moving train and when you see me growing smaller, resolve to never let me fade

if you are all the colors of the universe, can I be  the palette that holds you?

The boy who could only tend plastic plants or how he remained, mostly, unloved

He sighed as He poked the Now dead plant.

Apparently Living things Needed care.

He pondered This as It Explained…

Everything.

What is human existence? It turns out it’s pretty simple: We are dead stars, looking back up at the sky.

Dr. Michelle Thaller, NASA astronomer  (via psych-facts)

Pablo Picasso’s Blue Period

You and I in we and us

Innominate in the pseudonymous. Nameless in the animus. The we of us  Inconspicious. But we or us A capricious conspiracy Of anonymous captivity. To devour our depravity We See Us As a  Disposed possibility, Placed on periodic points On a gravity-less grid and Hidden in the heat of hell We Burn Us Arising in the arousal of inferno. Our fleshes the fuel to our fires and Our brains breathing through the absorption of burns. Us is in finite flaming and We are or and and and neither. I  Trying to attempt You Through  Possessive personal pronouns. You  Tempting me To a try.

i explode around you. like a supernova i erupt into light. there is glitter all over the bed- sheets. i am fire and goosebumps; a quivering mess, delicately balancing somewhere between “i love you.” and “fuck.” my mouth holds your name, my tongue plays with it, tastes it’s length and size, my lips release it, loud, louder. i am screaming a moan that is inaudible to everyone except you. i know that you heard it, like thunder before a storm, an echo of familiarly. i know you heard it, wherever you are.

in my head in my bed, without. (via writingbyella)

Catacombs

blue upon sky upon water mirrors my soul echoes of love rumbling… drumming inside questions about my place in history answers to every mystery dwells in universal catacombs living breathing heartbeats…beating we hold worlds within worlds within worlds our physical bodies…mere vessels and a mote to keep it all hidden…within these castle walls that protect us that separate us

FollowCB | Chris Bartlett I Copyright 2016

Astley David Middleton Cooper (1856-1924) - Danae