I charged at the waves
With a glass in my hand
I was tossed like a ball
at the bottle stand
and I landed beside your
remains on the stones
where your cold fingers
wrapped around my ankle bones
mewithoutyou - fox’s dream of the log flume
“Is there anything here I can call my own? A feeling? A moment? Anything? Will there ever be a time when I am truly loved? When I’ll know it and not wonder if it’s real? Is there something I can protect and love and care about? Is there a truth I can keep that has no fear attached? Will there ever be a time when I can be somewhere and it will feel like home? Will there ever be a time when I will look around me and know I am finally in the place I am supposed to be? Is there anything here, anything I can see, while I breathe and breathe, trying to stay alive long enough to just be able to be here and know that I am here? Not just any here but the here I am supposed to be in. Is there anything that I can call mine that will not eventually be taken from me? Is there anything, anyone, ever?”
Darlings, sometimes love will come to you like a fire
to a forest. When it does, be braver than I was. Just leave.
Take only what you can carry. No tears, no second thoughts.
You have hands like tinder boxes, the smallest spark
will kill you.
Get in the car. Take water to the maps. Avoid gas stations.
Don’t look at the flames dancing in the rear view mirror.
Go to new cities, climb on the rooftops and slow dance with
your coldest memories. Wallpaper your new home with every
dusty, desperate love letter you swore you’d never send.
Find a stranger with sharp edges and uncharted hips.
Press your stories into their skin and forget you ever knew
his name. Just promise you won’t think of embers or smoke.
Even when there is ash in your hair. Even when there is soot
in your lungs.
Clementine von Radics, “To Girls Like Me, With Hearts Like Kindling”
ray lamontagne - empty
Evan Patterson // Young Widows
10/10. would bang.
"Living alone,’ November whispered, ‘is a skill, like running long distance or programming old computers. You have to know parameters, protocols. You have to learn them so well that they become like a language: to have music always so that the silence doesn’t overwhelm you, to perform your work exquisitely well so that your time is filled. You have to allow yourself to open up until you are the exact size of the place you live, no more or else you get restless. No less, or else you drown. There are rules; there are ways of being and not being."
Catherynne M. Valente, Palimpsest.
future islands - before the bridge
if things had stayed the same
i would have carried you as far as the stars