No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone. No more calling like...– (via poetrypink)
Poetry Pink: Been afraid →
poetrypink: Yeah, million-dollar baby girl in the lower middle class with a Maglite right beneath her pillow And no, she’s never been a boxer by choice She’s known to act oak, he’ll never catch her a willow, She the calm type, you see the small scars creeping down her arm, peeking from her rolled sleeves, right? She keeps him weak in the knees but she out stay out of sight and when that school...
Pos-Music for shoplifting
from a broken home, stories are hard times passed And in a broken home That ain’t a breeze it’s a draft Because the window is cracked It’s where the heart is Broken or not, I won’t turn my back Word to Grace, though It’s thanks for the womb and support let’s see that smile You ain’t gotta worry no more We ain’t gotta worry We tough and we can deal...
Like fuck your skin, nobody needs it There’s bones, muscle and blood, what’s realer than fat and tendons? It’s raw, no soft tissue to draw your eyes to it So far flesh ain’t the truest at all, let’s rip into it
Let everything happen to you, Beauty and terror. Just keep going, No feeling...– Rainer Maria Rilke