Taking A Nap With Her Would Fix Me

i love when random tumblr users find my blog and go through it liking and reblogging everything in a frenzy, it feels like i’ve been cultivating a nice backyard with a lovely birdbath and feeder and i’ve glanced out the window to see a bird going absolutely wild with it

I am not a poet  I don’t know how to be one  How to wrap all my thoughts in a poem

I don’t know how to wrap my anger  In a bouquet of pretty flowers  Presentable to the world  In a way that doesn’t scare you I can only offer a scribble of curses  Paper torn in shreds 

I don't know how to wrap my sadness  In a lyrical song  Words so beautiful they make you weep I can only offer my tears Leaking out, droplets creating smudges on paper  Ink forming illegible words 

I don’t know how to wrap my love  In a melody that flows  Comprehensible  Clear  A song that loops itself in your head  I can only offer my heart  On display, beating a terrified thrum

I am not a poet  I don’t know how to be one  How to show myself to the world  In a way that does not frighten me to the core 

good poetry makes me want to kill myself but by staying alive

“They were all children who had previously failed to fit in, or had failed, to the point of acute misery, to feel satisfied, and they had seized on creative impulse in the hope of salvation.”

— Susan Choi, Trust Exercise

happy new year’s eve <3

“There’s a lot of pressure for people to make a very polished poem, to keep shining and shining it, and say here, it’s a perfect gem. There are many beautiful poems like that. A lot of Mary Ruefle’s poems are like that. But there’s also beauty to me in what I perceive as excess. One way I define poetry is as a blueprint to a feeling, so every line matters, even if it feels inconsequential or tangential. Even those tangents matter. So revision is really hard for me as a poet. Certain poems call to be revised because they want to look like that gem. Other poems are like, accept me as I am. Accept this mess.”

— Devin Kelly, from “On allowing yourself to be surprised”, from a conversation with Denise S. Robbins, published December 21, 2022 (via kitchen-light)

anyone need serotonin?

Whenever someone asks me how I'm feeling, how old I am or what I like to do in my free time, I feel like an alien who took over some random human's body and now has to prove that they are, in fact, that human.

hey (with the intentions of)

Anaïs Nin, in a diary entry dated 27 February 1929, featured in The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin: Vol. IV, 1927-1931