“Not everyone wants to go home
to get the sunset painted back into their bones
to have the law with all that slack in its love
pretending to save me
you don’t need to save me
I already did that myself-
when your god as my witness
never turned up
there was a typewriter
buried alive in that horse
I rode to get out of the flood.”
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(via booksandpresents)
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(Source: booksandpresents)
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(Source: fuckyeahnatalieportman, via booksandpresents)
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(Source: oursixthman, via booksandpresents)
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(Source: booksandpresents)
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(Source: booksandpresents)
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Once I wounded him with so
small a thorn
I never thought his flesh would burn
or that the heat within would grow
until he stood
incandescent as a god;
now there is nowhere I can go
to hide from him:
moon and sun reflect his flame.”
-Sylvia Plath, “To a Jilted Lover—(via caveofhypnos)
(via ahuntersheart)
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A Ghost Abandons the Haunted
By Katie Cappello
You ignore the way light filters through my cells,
the way I have of fading out—still
there is a constant tug, a stretching,
what is left of me is coming loose. Soon,
I will be only crumbs of popcorn,
a blue ring in the tub, an empty
toilet paper roll, black mold
misted on old sponges,
strands of hair woven into
carpet, a warped door
that won’t open, the soft spot
in an avocado, celery, a pear,
a metallic taste in the beer, a cold sore
on your lip—and when I finally lose my hold
you will hear a rustle and watch me spill
grains of rice across the cracked tile. -
