Illusioningin - Untitled

What would you be if there were no one who constrained your living space and time?

— Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from Underground

Trace Evidence, Charif Shanahan

“Summer arrives in a strawberry, sweet, juicy. As long as you feel its flesh on your tongue you’re unaware how. One minute inches into the next. But how could you observe awareness anyway? Or, for that matter, a thought? It grows in you, not as a sensation. (Nor like a baby or tumor.) An experience that you can’t hold on to. Any more than to the smell of lilac. Though it soothes emptiness.”

— Rosmarie Waldrop, from “Asymmetry (2)”, The Nick of Time: Poems

manwhore. bisexual. incest. eating disorder. poet. cheater. aristocrat. bipolar. celebrity. single dad of bastards. died in a war.

lord byron, you are my dream.

i pick at memories like scabs on juvenile knees

and i bleed when i could be change,

but i am both the bird and the tarnished cage.

i think some people are steel-toe boots and some of them are sidewalks;

some people live and learn the names of humans, of streets just to run away,

and some of them are cities forged and born to always stay.

and if life is a tree, i have to say, some days i want to leave,

but i think my birthmark is a footprint, and i'm bona fide concrete.

— concrete // melancholy galaxies (t.e.t.)

one day you think: I want to die. and then you think, very quietly: actually. actually. I think I want a coffee. a nap. a sandwich. a book. and I want to die turns day by day into want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friend, I want to sit in the sun, I want a cleaner kitchen, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else. I want to live.

- via duckbunny

10.20.19

anxiety is nicotine.

and by that, I mean the way it seeps through my veins faster than coffee but slower than blood.

Depression is lukewarm coffee at 9pm on a Tuesday.

and by that, I mean every day runs at warp speed / and I miss the milestones

my blood is made of

nicotine and coffee / muffins and tea / poison and toast

Anxiety is nicotine / and by that I mean / I am trying to quit / but like clouds before a thunderstorm / you'll follow me through

— Jay Vespertine (via letsbelonelytogetherr)