I want you
I opened “You slut” and found church pews
I opened church pews and found desperation
I opened desperation and found music
I opened music and found my father
I opened my father and found my broken heart
I opened my heart and found you leaving me
I opened your leaving and found “You are impossible to love”
I opened “Impossible” and inside was a scream.
I opened a scream and inside was childhood.
I opened childhood and inside was a swingset
I opened swingsets and inside were first kisses
I opened first kisses and inside were scared mothers
I opened scared mothers and inside was my mother
I opened my mother and inside was a scream.
I opened church pews and found desperation
I opened desperation and found music
I opened music and found my father
I opened my father and found my broken heart
I opened my heart and found you leaving me
I opened your leaving and found “You are impossible to love”
I opened “Impossible” and inside was a scream.
I opened a scream and inside was childhood.
I opened childhood and inside was a swingset
I opened swingsets and inside were first kisses
I opened first kisses and inside were scared mothers
I opened scared mothers and inside was my mother
I opened my mother and inside was a scream.
“
| — |
-Let’s Start With The Insult, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics) HI. I love this. Time to play. (via misiantaylor) (via rachelmckibbens) |
Tomas Saraceno’s new work is amazing
I was lucky enough to play in his Cloud City work a few years ago - so good!
I hate being so emotionally slutty. I need to stop loving everyone I have a long conversation with.
“
| — | Sara Quin (via lesbian-a-la-mode) |
Ya’ll, I know this world is far from perfect.
I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon.
I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic.
But every ocean has a shoreline
and every shoreline has a tide
that is constantly returning
to wake the songbirds in our hands,
to wake the music in our bones,
to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that brave river
that has to run through the center of our hearts
to find its way home.
I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon.
I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic.
But every ocean has a shoreline
and every shoreline has a tide
that is constantly returning
to wake the songbirds in our hands,
to wake the music in our bones,
to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that brave river
that has to run through the center of our hearts
to find its way home.
“
| — | excerpt from Birthday by Andrea Gibson (via singmemoonstruck) |
I no longer know if I wish to drown myself in love, vodka or the sea.
“
| — | Grantaire, Book V (via incorrectlesmisquotes) |
