A Dead Shark Isn’t Art, torrin a. greathouse
“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.
are u okay you’ve been listening to chinese satellite by phoebe bridgers for two hours straight
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
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.
i love tradition i hate tradition i love tradition i hate tradition i love tradition i hate tradition i
La Fenêtre de Mélusine by Rene Magritte, 1953
when it’s that time of day
you think i’m weak? babygirl i can listen to julien baker’s entire discography without even shedding a tear.