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He Plants a Seed

@pittedpeach / pittedpeach.tumblr.com

for every baby tooth you'll ever lose.
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The years came in which I was once again forced to discover that a primordial urge dwelt within me myself, an urge that had to crawl away and hide from the bright, permissible world. As it happens to everyone, I too was attacked by the gradually awakening perception of sex as an enemy and destroyer, as something forbidden, as seduction and sin. What my curiosity sought, what caused me dreams, pleasure, and anxiety, the great mystery of puberty, just didn’t fit into the sheltered happiness of my childlike peace. I did what everyone does. I led the double life of a child who really isn’t a child anymore. My conscious dwelt in the familiar, permissible world, my conscious denied the existence of the new world that was dawning. But at the same time I was living in dreams, urges, and wishes of a subterranean kind, over which that conscious life built more and more anxious bridges, because my child’s world was collapsing within me.

Herman Hesse, Demian

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think of me in the evenings when no words remain the way carcasses are a forest fires only left-behinds 

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Sometimes the little things: trillium in the woods, the red wing of the blackbird, rhubarb and fiddleheads, wild berries, a marsh hawk hunting. Thunder comes late each day. I walk knee- deep in the meadow: pink poppies, mint. These are fieldnotes for healing. When will I stop asking after you? I watch a dog die on Highway 684. The part about desire is that it runs you over. By the time I’m someone else, you’re gone. Wicked promise against what lasts. Bees knock on these windows. What my body wants to say to your body, it cannot.