"You have always looked like poison. The tattoos
snaking up your arms, shaved head, boots, and cigarettes
are everything the nervous ticks in the mother’s eyes
are running from. On the Richter scale you are a tsunami
of worry. Something to legislate against and poster
the city with warnings and expert testimony.


You are a tooth passed over by the tooth fairy. She cannot
build pearly gates with you. But that’s okay, you were
not meant to keep things out, but to let things in.

"

~   

Matthew Yasuoka, http://myasuoka.tumblr.com/

Matthew is an amazing Portland based poet who just started his tumblr, you should all go follow him and encourage him to post more stuff!

(via clementinevonradics)
4th May 2013✧19:47302 notes

"Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea, see the titbits and topsyturvies, bobs and buttontops, bags and bones, ash and rind and dandruff and nailparings, saliva and snowflakes and moulted feathers of dreams, the wrecks and sprats and shells and fishbones, whale-juice and moonshine and small salt fry dished up by the hidden sea."

~   (via anaesthesia4aesthetes)
20th Apr 2013✧22:525 notes

"

Sublimate me. Elevate me. Meet me in meatspace. Meet me at the bar. Obfuscate me with alcohol. Burble in my ear. Whisper prelinguistic psychobabble in my lobe like a lullaby. Titillate me. Bewitch me. Tickle my funny bone. Run your thumb down the inside of my elbow. Squeeze my bicep. Hard, right? Yeah, I’ve been working out.

Kiss my lisp. Kiss my ellipsis. Take me home. Charm my pants off. Rock my socks off. Verb all my clothes off. Scratch my back. Suck my tongue. Torture me with tenderness. Murder me with sympathy. Tuck me in and watch me dream about you.

Wake me up. Order me around. Speak to me only in imperatives. Sell me yourself. Wow, that’s quite a sales pitch. Gurl, you are so cybersexy. I fit your target demographic, and I like your personal brand. You can market to me anytime.

Fold me up and put me in your pocket. Dissolve me in data. Entertain me with mild stimuli. Text me. Sext me. Touch my touchscreen. Watch me twist into focus. I’m an antisocial butterfly. Socially mediate me. Trap me in your silky web. You like the internet? I like the internet too, let’s be best friends.

Decimate my meatscape. Drown me in your honeyed voice. Drown me in a tub full of candy. Pour some high fructose corn syrup on me. Smother me with your heavenly body weight. Crush me under the unbearable lightness of your being. Unfurl me like your favorite archaic scroll. Crack me open like a fortune cookie and read my insides. Vivisect me. Eviscerate me. Cut me up into thin slices and eat me like a mango. Gnaw on me in a raw reverie. I’m just kidding. This is all just poetic hyperbole. Please don’t eat me.

Walk across my cobblestone heart in your cruel stilettos. Trip me up so I fall and cut open my palms on the concrete. Make me swoon. Make me giddy. Make me vulnerable. Peel away my armadillo armor. Fill up my headspace with hope. Let me let my guard down. Send me mixed messages. Confuse me. Be my muse. Amuse me. Ask me questions. Tell me stories. Laugh at everything I say. Mention your fear of commitment. Start pulling away. Suggest let’s just be friends then never see each other again.

Ignore this. This isn’t for you anyway. It’s for someone else, I swear.

Forget me. Wipe me from your memory. Uninstall me from your brain. I wish I could do the same. But I don’t want eternal sunshine. I washed my clothes and sheets and the skyline but I can’t get your scent out. Everything beautiful reminds me of you. You’re undeletable.

"

~   Ethan Ryan, “Kill Me With Kindness” (via milkglass-eyes)

(via commovente)

20th Apr 2013✧22:511,871 notes

"Right away there’s thinking. Right away.
No matter how much I want my face to moon
with no contortion, leave all talk to voiceovers.
Hands take after purrs. Nicknames remind us
mostly of the fun inventing them. Every beach
fire is a kind of desperate flag. Cops pull over a
riding lawnmower, and the man won’t turn it off.
We walk the dike that crosses I-91. Headlights
pan like reasons. We’re keeping warm. Cars aren’t
fireflies, which is not even how I feel. “Funny isn’t
the same as being happy,” I tell you. Duh. Neither is
that. A family of tiny arsonists live in burned out
delivery trucks behind your neck. They are your
bad pillow. Hands wobble. It’s never been infinity
with me. Infinity is something I can fist bump.
It’s more like when I chew the top off a lightbulb,
and there’s no blob of light to hold. Carry. Get
close. Let me eat your eyelash like a mission.
If we plant it in a divot on my cheek, maybe I’ll
grow your love of coats. The lay of your wrist
when you’re tired. What plays in your head after
you gnaw my finger, look at me, teething the skin like
wrapping paper you want to save for next Christmas.
Sometimes I know that I don’t know what’s going to happen
next, but I know exactly who I’m going to be with when it
does. This feeling is called kiss me. This feeling is called hi.
But maybe you’re not thinking of anything. I’ve thought
about that. We’re on a hillside. Night grass. Grass face.
And the sky is clear enough to see exactly how you feel."

~   “You Can Know That Wait Means Stay,” Mike Young (via grammatolatry)
20th Apr 2013✧22:4963 notes
20th Apr 2013✧22:431,034 notes
ein-bleistift-und-radiergummi: Matt Brown ‘Below Mt. Pemigewassett’ Woodblock Print
20th Apr 2013✧22:42643 notes
joutue: Model Staz Lindes photographed by Mairi Luise TabbakhClothing: American Apparel
20th Apr 2013✧22:42407 notes

Underlined passage, Wild Strawberries screenplay by Ingmar Bergman.

(via violentwavesofemotion)

20th Apr 2013✧22:41559 notes

"

That’s us in the satellite photographs,
in flagrante delicto through the atmosphere.

You can tell by the tattoos: starfish ashore on your ankle,
daggered Ace of Spades bloodless on my shoulder blade.

You’re pressing your knuckles to my vestigial tailbone.
I’m saying something urgent to your jugular vein.

See: that pile’s what we wore that day: your mismatched lingerie,
my NASA boxer shorts and T-shirt with wine stains.

It seems, at least, we’ve bathed, but the soles of my feet
shine with calluses. Your toenail polish has flaked.

Thank gravy we’re not wearing outfits, or, heavens,
playing Prison Escape. By the sunlight on our bodies,

it’s neither early nor late. Something shadows my face.
Your eyes are closed. You’ve made a cradle of your legs.

"

~   “Satellites,” Aaron Anstett (via grammatolatry)
14th Apr 2013✧20:2962 notes
petrole: polly mellen by mark borthwick, 1999
12th Apr 2013✧22:481,666 notes

"Do what you like, you don’t have to be nice
Just pour yourself a cup of coffee
Leave anytime, you don’t have to be right
You’ve gotta live the best you know how
And if you love, well that should be enough
Instead it turns your joy into sorrow
And I can’t breath, with the dust of retreat
I’m choking on the fumes of my wayward back
And when we kissed, it didn’t feel poisonous
And when you cried, I dried off your blue eyes
She smiles at me, as she is falling asleep
Says, “We gotta live the best we know how to."

~   “A Sea Chanty Of Sorts”, Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s  (via handcraftedinvirginia)

(via violentwavesofemotion)

12th Apr 2013✧22:40307 notes
12th Apr 2013✧22:391,299 notes

"I guessed from the very beginning the state you are in. Isn’t it something like a fever, a seasickness on land, a kind of leprosy? Don’t you feel it’s this very feverishness that is preventing you from being properly satisfied with the real names of things, and that now, in your frantic haste, you’re just pelting them with any old names? You can’t do it fast enough. But hardly have you run away from them when you’ve forgotten the names you gave them. You are fighting reality with falseness!” He interrupted me: “I’m glad I haven’t understood a word you’ve been saying.” Irritated, I said quickly: “Your being glad about it proves that you have understood it.” “Didn’t I say so before?” he said calmly, “One cannot deny you anything.” He smiled.Then he crouched down on his knees and said with a sleepy expression: “Now I can also tell you at last that your stare has been comforting me for a long time. And I hope to learn from you how things really are, why it is that around me things sink away like fallen snow, whereas for other people even a little liqueur glass stands on the table steady as a statue."

~   Franz Kafka, The Complete Stories: Beginning Of A Conversation With A Supplicant (via violentwavesofemotion)
12th Apr 2013✧22:3832 notes
12th Apr 2013✧22:37422 notes

"Since he only loves the small of your back
because it’s helpless, the tears peel down your face
like fruit rinds. Close your mouth when you cry,
we can see your whole wet feeling,
hear it smack against your tongue.

At night, the naked branches poke
the meat of the sky like a fork,
and your mouth shriveling to a silent
petal, goes to hold its secret still."

~   Carrie Seitzinger, “Secret Pages II” (via renegadetongue)
12th Apr 2013✧22:3511 notes
Opaque  by  andbamnan