starryrain

Latest Posts by starryrain

A Dead Shark Isn’t Art, torrin a. greathouse

Toxic old man yaoi😬

this is what it means to be human

Everything, Mary Oliver

The Breathing, Denise Levertov

A Prayer by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski

Like a Small Café, That’s Love by Mahmoud Darwish (translated by Mohammad Shaheen)

Having a Coke with You by Frank O’Hara

Eating Together by Li-Young Lee

The Orange by Wendy Cope

The Quiet Machine, Ada Limón

To Go Mad, Paruyr Sevak

Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro

Hammond B3 Organ Cistern, Gabrielle Calvocoressi

Peace XVIII, Khalil Gibran

Your Unripe Love, Paruyr Sevak (from “Anthology of Armenian poetry")

Here and Now by Peter Balakian

Ich finde dich (I find you) by Rainer Maria Rilke

The Thing Is by Ellen Bass

One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

Miss you. Would like to take a walk with you. by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

I Want to Write Something So Simply by Mary Oliver

What's Not to Love by Brendan Constantine

Where does such tenderness come from? by Marina Tsvetaeva

You Are Tired (I Think) by E. E. Cummings

Living With the News by W.S.Merwin

What the Living Do by Marie Howe

i don't like what i'm becoming and a part of what i'm becoming antagonises the self-hatred that i use to regress

here's a poem i thought you would like !

tears up so profusely… thank you. i adore this (and you) and the poem is a part of me. thank you thank you mwahhhh !!!!

i care (or do i?)

i wrote something about the burden of concern and care, and how it'll never be enough, and it'll never compare to that one completely perfect person that is always haunting your actions. enjoy.

Happy wet beast Wednesday

tamino and mitski photographed by ramy moharam fouad

sorry i’m late i slithered here from eden just to hide outside your door

thinking about cass & dick and being able to clock each other instantly.. or not being able to clock each other and freaking out. always the perceiver never the perceived. thinking about how they're two sides of the same coin, so close yet too far apart to meet, turning and turning yet never on the same plane. thinking about how they don't agree on much but they'll always agree on the belief in the world they're trying to protect, in the salvation they seek from penance, in the absolute precision of every movement, from the flick of a wrist to a twitch of their toes. they have two hands attached to their arms, one to carry sin and one to carry sacrifice, and they head out into the world in hopes of preserving the very thing that saved them. the thread of life ties them together and they offer to the world themselves, holy and whole.

Nathaniel Orion G. K. / 11.21.24

"is there anything so undoing as a daughter?"

ambessa and her undoing daughter, mel.

sources: arcane (2021) / love of the wolf / an oresteia, anne carson / unknown / maia baia, mother

touch-starvation needs to be written with emphasis on the starving part. you are hungry to be touched. so hungry that even the very taste of it makes you nauseous. it has been long since anything has ever touched you, ever fed you - that your body has grown more used to that gnawing emptiness more than anything else. it's better for you to be held, to eat but it makes you sick to try. you know

i love how tamino is like “your music and the sound of your voice gives me life please never stop, my love couldn’t compare to the beauty of your voice” and hozier’s like “yeeeah it’s definitely… a song… i won’t tell you to shut up but it’s not like you are a great singer as well…”

“i want them to kiss” good for you! i want them tearing each other apart limb from limb just to feel something. i want them creating wounds and scars just to leave a permanent mark on the other. i want them poking and prodding mercilessly at each other’s most vulnerable secrets but keeping them nonetheless.

— David Cronenberg, Consumed

Yannis Ritsos, trans. by Kimon Friar, from a poem featured in "Erotica: Love Poems,"

guys i found my new favourite site. i can type faster and read at the same time?? this is a beautiful invention why did no one tell me about this

i grow with the same aches and pains in the same way that the house that i spent my childhood in did - the precise address and house always changing but the energy consistent - with groans as the wind blows past in unrelenting fury, with shudders as the heat boils down and with wails and the rain pummels down on the sturdy rooftop.

i grew steadily, but somehow shakily, like the strong bamboo outside my window yeah survives the tumultuous semantics of weather, yet bends at the lightest touch of breeze.

i wish to be like these childhood homes. steadfast and clean in their pure and joyful energy. i hope and pray as i grow that i can shed behind the parts of myself that i despise and have almost outgrown of, and that i can build myself anew.

i miss my childhood home, actually. even if i moved often as a child. perhaps i miss the simplicity of it all, of life when the most strenuous thing was moving a few streets away.

this is insane

i'm actually going insane because what do you mean the lines blurring between the physical and the mental effects, the "groans and shudders and wails" that might as well be you crying in the language of a building

the bamboo metaphor is absolutely genius because there's so much to unpick. the absolute unpredictable nature of it all? the irony of being able to withstand the harshest things but breaking down so easily when you're vulnerable. no one understands why you're so volatile yet so calm, so emotional and yet an adult in the body of a child. matured too fast, just as bamboo does?? actually incredible you're a genius???

the way this reads like a prayer and a promise is actually making me sick in the best way possible. i love the way it's hopeful but also so tragic. the fucked nostalgia you're capturing is something i've always wanted to describe and the fact that you wrote about this makes me feel understood but. in a way i'm sorry that i'm understood. it shouldn't be like that.

i'm so glad you showed me this because what do you mean you became the stable architecture and you are the house and you are now trying to be the walls that you were never certain would stay up for long enough

i'm so sorry you had to go through this, and i'm sorry that we're both able to bond over it, as beautiful as this poetry is. i'm keeping this one close to me. i hope you can get out of the circumstances one day.

thank you. thank you thank you thank you.

HOZIER — NFWMB | Acoustic Live (2018) [2/5]

20160103 - The Lovers.

oh my god. barbara literally named cass. she named cass after cassandra from greek mythology. and she named herself after the oracle of delphi. barbara basically named cass after herself!!

because the difference between cass and babs is that no one listens to cass. at first she didn’t even know how to tell anyone, and when she finally did know her mouth wouldn’t work anyway. and when she does learn to speak no one listens. she tries to tell bruce that she is happy being batgirl but bruce fires her anyway because barbara told bruce that cass isn’t.

barbara thinks she knows what cass needs, and she does, but she doesn’t know how to go through with it so the way it ends up happening only hurts cass more. both bruce and babs project onto cass so hard, trying to give cass what they needed when they were young and cassandra doesn’t have the insight or information or words to tell them what would help her. cass thought it herself- “batman just wants another weapon in his war against crime and oracle’s looking for someone to live out her own shattered dreams” (batgirl 2000 #46)

cassandra hadn’t met her own mother yet and didn’t even know what a mother-daughter relationship would look like, had never seen a mother interacting with a child expect for maybe briefly on the street or on tv. but still, she recognized barbara as a motherly figure. barbara is the one she comes to when she cries, the one who protects her and advocates for her, brings her on vacations, who takes care of her, barbara is the one who named her. barbara is the one who cass left a note to before planning to die.

Skip a beat in the bloodline.

Extra vers below:

I like this one better actually

Messy burger

live laugh love trephacard

having a job

Bruce & Minhkhoa By HO

maybe if you had been made right, you would be better at being alone. if you'd assembled yourself out of the particulate, coagulating into amber and diamond - you'd be lovely and desirable. instead of pewter and hungry and anxious.

when she doesn't text you back, you should be normal about that. you should shrug and move on and get back to your beautiful life and your wonderful dog. when you wake up shaking, don't call her, don't beg for her attendance. if someone says i love you, aren't you supposed to feel warm and held and gentle. what is wrong with you that your first instinct is to reject: no, you don't, not really.

what is wrong with you. asking for help from your friends and loved ones is supposed to be a moment of connection and vulnerability. instead you spend hours preparing and weeks recovering. you've done all the reading and you know you are supposed to accept-love-as-it-is presented.

but still the internal questions, litany of the prey animal. do you still love me. am i still attractive. do you care about my interests. am i boring you. are you becoming distant. are you going to leave me. do you like me or are you just managing. am i telling you too much. am i bothering you. do you want me there. am i embarrassing you.

the problem is that your prayers have been right before. you loved someone and they hurt you and now the words sluice against the floorboards no matter how tightly you lock the door. you go to therapy and try to trust and try to be kind and try to assume the best. that everyone is honest and loyal. that you can be happy and alone and miss her but still feel easy, at-home.

it feels like waving a flag in front of a sinking ship. you hold up the scripture and research, preaching: i can do this. i am not going to let my insecurities and fears ruin another relationship.

all of the drowning passengers have your face. they try to say i told you so. i told you this is what ends up happening. their voices are swallowed by the water and the deep below.

i love tradition i hate tradition i love tradition i hate tradition i love tradition i hate tradition i

i cant talk to anyone about how horror and romance are inherently intertwined. you guys get it though.

My guilt will not purify me.

(Batgirl 2000 permanently altered my brain chemistry)