Inspirations, random musings and other pseudo coming-of-age stories of a 20 year-old. I write, I ramble, I bitch quite a bit.
Looking for kindred spirits.

Writing you tar poems with a slick tongue
while you wolf down (murky eyes, shallow breathing)
promises of annihilation whispered so low
that your whole body leans in (to hear, I’m sure,)
every little thing you know about physics,
I have yet to learn through sheer osmosis,
but every stretch of you keeps trying.

Since you are watching with eyes wider than this room, since your hands are open wide, since you are ready to swallow the whole wide world, teach me how to embrace being infinite. Teach me how you gather so much kindness in such short sentences, how you pour so much goodness in single words, how you hold so much sweetness in your silences.

I’m desperately trying to free up space in this faulty mind of mine, for all the memories words could never describe. I say, “Wait!” and drink the whole sky in before he kisses me again. I fill my brain up to the brim with city lights and buildings. I assign old places to new meanings.

pilsudski said: Podgorica.

"Podgorica: would you die for what you believe in?"

It depends. There are a few things I don’t think I could witness idly, even if that meant putting myself in danger. I’ve been known to react passionately to injustice. I’m not particularly interested in being a martyr though. I have some people to look after. In many ways, my survival matters more to them than most of my ideals ever will. In the end, I’d probably take the risk of dying to defend a few sacred things, in the heat of the moment. Of course, all bets are off in case of a crazy scary dystopian situation.

dulceandstuff said: Vienna!

"Vienna: Choose a song to define your life and explain it.”

At this exact moment in my life, I’m really feeling like The State of Dreaming by Marina & The Diamonds again. I’ve been feeling that particular shade of hazy depression again, where I’m just kinda floating in what feels like a weird Twilight zone. You know, Marina sings "my life is a play" in way I find both so triumphant and hopeful and angry and bitter. You have the pride of hiding well, and the hope that your life is going to be as rosy as a play, and the bitterness that people seem to buy willingly into your little act. And that very eerie bridge, where she sings "If only you knew my dear/How I live my life in fear/If only you knew my dear/How I know my time is near" is so, so chilling, but it rings so true. Again, this isn’t something that defines my whole life. But right now, the forced delusion, the pretending, the little fantasies, the weirdness with which I approach talking of this when I have to? It’s everywhere. It’s inescapable. It all unfolds on an eerie little melody.

Prometheus brought down
fire to mankind
and I,
a mad woman,
sought to swallow it whole

Monster mine, I
will have you eat from both my hands
until you crave the taste of flesh
while trial for my theft awaits

Insatiable, I
touch you like flames licking walls clean
shaking the ashes from your sheets
while your lungs rest in the morning

Monster mine,
I steal the warmth
out of your mouth
and I,
a mad woman,
feel the eagle diving in

- "What Eats Away At Me" | Sarah Raphaelle (via stealinglanguage)

Should have been in bed three or four hours ago. Can’t sleep. Busy collecting details before they slip away from me. How warm silence was in the morning. How you kept waking intermittently, looking up and smiling and rolling back to sleep. A happiness written all over your face, a happiness spilling out of your mouth. I know it’ll be a long time before it stops getting better and better and better, but how could you possibly make my name sound prettier than you already have? I still hear your voice, hoarse and sweet, and I can’t will myself to sleep.

Finding reckless abandon. Finding sweet new paths to mutual surrender. Finding bliss balanced carefully between arms and hips I’ve kissed over and over. I’m renting the corners of your lips, I’m renting four covers and three pillows, I’m renting the tiles of your bedroom on which I dance wildly when you aren’t looking. Everything is good and warm and sweet. Everything is an exercise in vulnerability. You are singing in the car and we are kissing at the red lights and the rain is hitting the windows hard and falling has never felt so easy.

A soft sweetness. Your eyes full and dark under street lights. A happiness that could crack sidewalks. Counting pennies to buy pounds and pounds of useless dictionary pages. Speaking a thousand words a minute. Losing a thousand words a minute. A laughter that could crack ceilings. Protesting bad literature at four in the morning in a mess of good things. Recalling sleepless sunrises while stretching the night in a parking lot. Writing silent poems on slopes left of your shoulder. You are speaking about your grandparents and I try really hard to will time into standing still. I’m always surprised they still make moments like these.

Curled up in the corner with old faiths as new shields. Body shaking like a leaf in this heat wave. Clammy hands. Eyes begging for salvation. I have dissected your innocence for too long without a conclusion. I have nothing left to give you — no wisdom, no antidote, no poison. I’m still too weak to raise you from perdition. God knows I’ve tried.


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