I can’t stop staring at it.
A child’s skull before they have lost their baby teeth.
Humans are just so weird.
that makes me want to vomit.
So cool.
(via fearandloathingjawline)
Men by Maya Angelou
When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pause,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.
One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.
Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.
Maybe.
Love After Love by Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
O Lord
O Lord I write to you thinking only of my self.
O Lord have we tried to fill our Emptiness with the members of hungry men?
O Lord your prodigal sons do not always return.
O Lord your prodigal daughters are being defiled.
O Lord will I drink whiskey with Judas Iscariot?
O Lord have you given me the dream about the moon, was my prayer counted among prayers, will it end with the water and the weeping?
O Lord if the answer is yes, will you allow me to swim?
O Lord don’t answer that.
O Lord why have you given me the moon to hold?
O Lord have I been crying out to you in my sleep?
O Lord do the trees stretch up to you or down to you and are they growing their rings out to you?
O Lord what did you say again about vines that don’t bear fruit?
O Lord have I been writing anthems for the Enemy?
O Lord did you show me your wrath for drinking hard liquor?
O Lord I do not like to speak of these things.
O Lord will you allow that I do not speak of these things?
I’ve got to save my tears because Aunt Rosie is dying in a hospital bed in her living room and because the winter will come back in time but on mornings like this I feel a great pull inside me to worship the green trees and my back patio and even the next six hours of catering to hungry humans and oh boy oh boy oh boy.
Amazing photos of a family in the 1970’s that lived with a lion by Michael Rougier. (LIFE Archive)
(via lovinloveout)
N 0 † Σ -2- ϟ L Σ F
NOTE:
- A beastly inner glow.
- Childlike projection.
- The shell of a ruff tuff lyf.
- A dime a dozen.
- The Smell of teen assholes.
- The ache of non stop movement.
- How pretty.
-MR
Dream Transference And I’m Sorry.
“I don’t remember my dreams”, he said and then I told him about mine, how I live half of my life asleep. I promised to whisper pleasant words in his ear while he slept, to prompt his dreams to be as colorful as mine, but I fell asleep first and didn’t keep my word. An hour later I awoke to his absence and found him downstairs full of fresh panic. “I had a nightmare, just like what you described, and it’s your fault.” I told him he should have jostled me awake but he said “You looked so pleasant.”
P.S. The dog misses you.
Went through your stuff today. Why weren’t you there?
We found something funny in your dresser and you woulda turned bright red.
Thanks for the new scarves and the pink shades. I would say I’ll think of you whenever I wear them but I don’t attach much meaning to objects until they go missing.
Love you.
