October 2011
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To Plath, To Sexton
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So what use was poetry to a white empty house? Wolf, swan, hare, in by the fire. And when your tree crashed through your house, what use then was all your power? It was the use of you. It was the flower. Jean Valentine
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Rowing the campground up by the lake where we...
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Fading fast/escape escape escape: The Weeping... →
restlesspaperheart:
We thought this second body was our own, inseparable from us, tirelessly colluding. We deluded ourselves. Now suddenly off it goes, denying and forgetting us. The pain enters everywhere, and reason, cling to it though we may, shatters and crumbles. Reason will no longer listen; fear takes over. We…
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themoonschild:
Their Cell | Girl in a Coma
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Explosions pillaging the night From the fireworks...
“so I have no problem telling you
why you cried over the third lost
metal or...”
– Brenda Shaughnessy - I’m Perfect At Feelings
(via grammatolatry)
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“I loved you so much once. I did. More than anything in the whole wide world....”
– Raymond Carver (Where I’m Calling From: New and Selected Stories)
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