Salinyay-blog - Bananafish

Dear god: I just want to be believed in. Dear god: I had a syrup dream – the sky was grey and sinking, clouds of sugar and milk. Dear god: We don’t have churches anymore, just the blood that we kept in them. Dear god: I named the animals and now they’ve named me back – deathgirl, gentle hand, silver teeth. Dear god: In the end, water is thicker than blood. Water is heavier than anything else. Dear god: Laila killed those cats with her bare hands. Dear god: I have difficulty with faith. Dear god: I have difficulty with apologies. Dear: god. Deer god. Dear, god. Dear god.

Olive Prays, Yasmin Belkhyr (via wildflowerveins)

boats | julie zlo

Puerto Vallarta, MX.

This was the summer I bathed in olive oil and sat on the sidewalks  of Jerusalem eating pistachio ice-cream with the old man whose ancient face tried to explain to me that we fought with our hearts and not our heads– therefore we would never win.

Annemarie Jacir, excerpt of ‘Pistachio Ice Cream’ (via pairedaeza)

Tell me, Atlas.

the things we learn right before midnight

what’s keeping you from sleeping?

nothing. i’m just not ready to hit the sack.

why’s that?

you really want to know?

yep.

okay. but i don’t want you to think i’m crazy or leave this bed running, alright?

i wouldn’t do that.

right. okay. hmm. so, 24 years ago, on the eve of my birth, my mom decided to deliver her child in a graveyard. the city’s farthest most forgotten graveyard. she’s an artist, though; a lover of contrasts & a chaser of the dark.

oh

july 21st, lost in the depths of a summer night amid traces of grief, sorrow & dried petals, my mum gave birth to a baby she’d almost immediately hold between her arms. i don’t remember this of course, but i’ve been told she murmured:

‘hey, little one. i need you to think of death as your friend. a mutual. an ally. a confident.’

from that day on - my entire life, basically- i’ve never slept before midnight.

i stay still by the side of my bed, patiently waiting for my oldest friend to come sit by my side.

once he shows up, we tell each other how life treated us that day in our own sides of the realm.   we then hold hands & together, we end the life of yet another day.

- @skinthepoet

Sunrise on the river

I confess I loved you more than I let on but you weren't ready for it.   And I wasn't going to pour myself into hands that couldn't hold me.

Lauren Eden (via: skinthepoet)

A lesson in forgetting:
 the past always heals faster
 when you’re not looking. The way we try and hold
 onto memories like they are more
 than water. The way we look 
into the pools of our past
 searching for minnows, searching for fish. A lesson in remembering:
 the water is always smoother
 in retrospect. Where are the waves? Where are the currents? The way in which we tell ourselves we could do it again. Dive in again.
 Make it out alive. Last night, your voice touched me in my sleep;
 I woke up thinking about waterfalls.

Kelsey Danielle, “A Lesson in Forgetting” (via pigmenting)