The Cartoons And The Movies Have No Wide-eyed Gazes To Look Back At Them. No Light Of Day To Shine Across
the cartoons and the movies have no wide-eyed gazes to look back at them. no light of day to shine across the dusty screen. abandoned life, abandoned dreams. left lonely and hidden beyond care. what does it all mean. in this ghost town.
-s's.
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you can rip silence apart to sparks like interstellar dust
And embrace the way truth escapes its fiery arms Peculiar noise, infinite void -s’s.
everyday is a beautiful lamplight peaking into a darkened forest
Filling up forgotten chambers,
I hear, I see, I left it too soon
take off and leave white hazy plumes
Air’s been kissed with an infectious blue
-s’s.
I saw me from behind
watching you on, but from afar
I wouldn't have known, If I should choose to go
Someone make my mind up for me,
Somehow.
-s's.
— no. 11 of @nosebleedclub's january prompts.
Is art resistance? Can you plant a garden to stop a war? It depends how you think about time. It depends what you think a seed does, if it’s tossed into fertile soil. But it seems to me that whatever else you do, it’s worth tending to paradise, however you define it and wherever it arises.
— Olivia Laing, from Funny Weather
Mouth-Shut
She wouldn’t mind if you didn't keep your
mouth shut
Poppies of your dreams start to sprout, marveling
She won’t even care
If you’ve nothing to spare
Don't be afraid.
the body
seldom do i look at my reflection in the mirror and see what i want to see.
but your eyes are blinking. your lips are moving. your lungs inhale and exhale. your heart beats.
know that thirty trillion cells make up your body. know that one trillion antibodies are fighting to keep you alive. know that stardust flows in your blood and makes you beautiful. so, so beautiful.
i love you because you’re alive.
i hope you love yourself, too. for being alive.
— no. 18 of @nosebleedclub's january prompts.
Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Aurelia Plath written c. August 1951
i discovered you
With a psychedelic twang and orange glaze
luxury gold spraying through the years
discovered you like you were never really real
and learned the great ensembles of the past
A grand and tragic rampant pursuit of passion
-s’s.
I can't see your art, I don't know what beauty beneath eyes like yours could be, what it looks like, how you’ll love, what you’ll know, why I should follow you home -s’s.
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safiresyrup reblogged this · 1 year ago
