In Looking Out Upon The World, We Forget That The World Is Looking At Itself.

What a view to wake up to - Sapa, Vietnam

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www.louisecoghill.com.au

@louisetakesphotos

between black & white, gray

in my dreams, we hold hands & laugh at the idiocy of ancient obsessions & insecurities. we walk on lonely beaches & dance with nature in rainy jungles barely known to humankind.

in my nightmares, i run to escape    wild dragons     & memories. the blues often tackle me, & when my body slaps the ground, the labyrinth i'm trapped in whispers in my ear:

"running is useless, boy. you're a caged monster too"

- @skinthepoet

4. If it is true that the earth respires, That it speaks only to those Who command nothing– If it is true that the first man Was fashioned of corn. Of divine shit. Of dust– If a bale of cotton– If color is trance, And trance is to ride the back Of the first great bird In first flight– If the world has ended twelve times– If the atom is cognizant, coy; If light is both pow-wow And tango– If, at the final trumpet, Oil magnates will kiss the ankles Of earth-caked girls who traipse Along the highway’s edge, Hugging the mountain When trucks barrel past– If Satchmo. If Leadbelly– If wind on the horizon, Thundering the trees, Making all of our houses small–

Tracy K. Smith, from “The Nobodies” (via hypocrite-lecteur)

To feel anything deranges you. To be seen feeling anything strips you naked.

Anne Carson, Red Doc> (via theclassicsreader)

Puerto Vallarta, MX.

NEW POETRY!

some weeks ago, my line breaks woke me up before sunrise. they pinched my temples while whispering in my ear: stop caging us in your dark corners, we’re much more than that. 

& they’re right; ever since poetry found me trying to escape the wild beasts in my heart, i’ve been keeping them in the back of who i am. shouting to the world this is all of me but please don’t look at that. i can’t do this to my saver. my haven deserves to be honored. 

i’m skin the poet, a writer putting it all out: poems, thoughts, line breaks & rhymes. my shortcoming & my light. all for you. I’m here for other poets out there, to engage in a world with you. please feel free to comment on my works or link me your own poetry. 

love  xx 

@skinthepoet

changing of the seasons - two door cinema club

It occurred to me last night, while the moon cried for Xanax, how maybe if I focused hard enough for the right amount of time, I might learn to accept the fragments you left. Perhaps one of these tomorrows will find me walking into the ghosts of you the way I now walk into that cold Parisian rain: compliant and composed, unbothered despite every pore on this skin that clothes my bones begging me to bathe under the fires of the sun.

Jezzini (Parisian Rain on Orbit(X))