ig / rosegoldgrinder
even death cannot part us
svetlana alexievich “voices from chernobyl” tr. keith gessen // bell hooks “all about love: new visions” // anna de noailles “does love kill” tr. norman r. shapiro // art for richard siken “crush” by @outcrying // walt whitman “the sleepers” // @theblob1958 “the longevity of love and life” // art for franz kafka “the castle” by @promqueendyke // mary zimmerman “metamorphoses” // jean valentine “little boat” // “the colour of pomegranates” dir. sergei parajanov
this is not the way i plan on living for the rest of my life
YOU WANTED A STORY? WELL HERE IT IS. UNEARTH IT ALL AND WATCH IT ROT. WHEN I GOT A NEW PAIR OF SHOES, ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WAS THE HOLE IN THE OLD PAIR. IT WAS RAINING WHEN I REALIZED.
DO YOU BITE YOUR FINGERNAILS UNTIL THEY BLEED? THE FEELING OF SKIN, RIPPING, WILL NEVER NOT BE WORTH THE CONSEQUENCE: WARM, METALLIC, ENTIRELY MINE.
WHEN I LOOK AT MY SHOES. MY NAILS. MY ZIP CODE, MY SEVENTEENTH SUMMER, MY FIRST JOB, MY FIRST KISS, MY FIRST MY FIRST MY FIRST MY FIRST—
WHAT AM I TO DO THE NEXT TIME IT RAINS, THE NEXT TIME I BLEED? I CARRY AN UMBRELLA IN MY PURSE AND HOUSE KEYS BETWEEN MY KNUCKLES AND I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL THIS PINCHING FEELING—EITHER IN MY TOES OR FROM THE GRIP THIS HAS ON MY HEART—SURRENDERS TO ME, FINALLY
BREAKING THEM IN, A BLISTER FORMS ON MY ANKLE AND I CAN’T HELP BUT BE REMINDED OF WHAT HAS BEEN TAKEN FROM ME, IN UNFAIRNESS AND IN VAIN.
THE ONLY THING THAT IS TRULY MINE IS THE WEIGHT I CARRY, 2021 | n.p
Anonymous asked:
You’ve been hacked my dude ☹️
aw fuck thanks for letting me know
excerpt from my poem “xxxxx, king of the unreliability of both love and war”
i’m proud of all of u out there who were raised in abusive and manipulative households who didn’t realize they were displaying the same red flags as the people who raised them because they don’t know anything beyond it and who are actively trying to be better. the people who don’t know how to love people properly because the “love” they got growing up came with passive aggressive, guilt-tripping strings attached. the ones who feel guilt deep in their heart for the things they never meant to do to others, but didn’t even realize they were doing. it’s an uphill battle to recover from being a victim of abuse, especially seeing those traits that you despise so much in yourself, and try to be the best person you can be. i’m proud of all of u who are trying and i know u are capable of being the person you want to be
when i was fifteen, i had a boyfriend. and trouble getting to sleep.
he wasn’t really the type to stay up past 10:30, so when he found out i would sometimes stay up until 2 in the morning, it’s safe to say he was shocked. and a little concerned. we had only been together a couple of weeks by this point, so i figured it was just a little tidbit he learned about me and that would be it. as we were in a ldr, we were constantly on the phone from the time we got out from school to the time we (he) went to sleep, but that night, at midnight, he instructed me to turn all my electronics off and lay down and just talk to him. i fell asleep in less than 20 minutes, which was a feat. he would do this every night, making sure i was asleep before he hung up and went to sleep himself. he would speak so softly and tell me how wonderful i was and tell me little jokes for as long as he needed to and, although we were together for a very short amount of time, i am so grateful to have had a person like that in my life, even if things feel a little weird now, when we cross paths every once in a while