I Wish Writing Stained You The Way Art Does: Fingertips Gray With Charcoal, Bright Paint Splattered Against
I wish writing stained you the way art does: fingertips gray with charcoal, bright paint splattered against a face, wet clay drying on skin. To be looked at and to be thought of an artist.
Sometimes I look at these hands and imagine ink dripping down my nails, my palms, my wrists. Onto the floor. Black blood and the type of visual beauty that doesn’t exist yet, and maybe never will.
More Posts from Stargazer-forever and Others
Dorianne Laux, “I Dare You”
I am a(n):
⚪ Male
⚪ Female
🔘 Writer
Looking for
⚪ Boyfriend
⚪ Girlfriend
🔘 An incredibly specific word that I can't remember
vampire who’s married to an archaeologist voice: my love, stop trying to carbon date me
I know I don't say it enough and we joke about depression and how loneliness is eating up our lives, but it will be okay. I promise you it will.
antigone was right
“Today is a wonderful day, an avalanche of light and I would like to stand with you in this rain of sunshine, to flow together, to melt into it… in mornings like this, life roars within me.”
—
Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, January 13, 1950 [#128]
(via acknowledgetheabsurd)
small talk enjoyers when the weather is in any way notable:
Heartwarming story: Little girl doesn’t have to do anything to fund her dad’s surgery because his expenses are covered by his country’s universal healthcare.
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