Latest Posts by deepdiveintotheblue - Page 2

Takuboku Ishikawa, from a poem featured in On Knowing Oneself Too Well: The Selected Poems of Takuboku Ishikawa

Margaret Atwood, from "Wilderness Tips," originally published in September 1991

There's distractions and then the feeling slipping in between your ribs, and it doesn't go away It doesn't seem to have a cause or an end so you just keep yourself busy enough Enough to ignore it and sometimes forget it exists, then everyone goes home and you go home and it slips right back in between your ribs like it never left because it never did. Because there's nothing wrong Not with anything surrounding you, it's something broken inside of you, But I've never known how to fix that and at this point I don't think I ever will.

[slow dancing, silk textures, hands on her waist, fireworks, velvet touch, euphoric music, black dresses, red roses, moonlit serenade slow songs, lana del rey, letters, lips, forehead to forehead, eye contact, gentleness, candlelit ambiance, whispered secrets, starlit night, soft whispers, vintage charm, lingering perfume, shared laughter, hidden glances, stolen moments, timeless romance.]

— Hanif Abdurraqib, from “They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us.”

Citizen Illegal, José Olivarez

[ Text ID: love left you. / then you left you. / now all you have / is this disappearing body. ] 

heaviness.

this week i felt so heavily taxed it’s like i’m being robbed of something.

i don’t want to be here. i don’t want to be around anyone but a few, i don’t want to be perceived, i don’t want to be thought of. i don’t want the smiles from certain people because i don’t deserve them, i have fooled them with only a few actions they’ve seen of me and the surface that looks clean and flawless. that’s the thing— if only they knew me deeply would they maybe back the hell away, not smile as much, refuse to look me in the eye with such cordiality.

i am not even being cruel to myself. i am honesty right now. this heaviness weighs on my back like a load i can’t pretend isn’t there anymore. i look in the mirror and the reflection is so tired, so fed up. if only i could open the minds of people around me just to erase the memory of me from them and disappear somewhere. if only everyone forgot me for a second, and i had no trace of prior existence— a fresh start where i can begin newly again, where perhaps even i’d be known to myself as someone with less baggage, less of all the bad things that have happened to me and continue to happen under the surface which makes it all the more insidious and sickening. i am tired of myself. of the people who made me who i am today. i hope to get lighter. so much so that i fly away as if filled with helium, never to come back down on this wretched planet with its wretched people who see the worst in me and the deceived who see the best in me.

— Carol Rifka Brunt in Tell The Wolves I'm Home

Will I be too needy and greedy

to be asking for a 50mint long hug?

Cause, I want to be swallowed by the

feeling of warmth in my body

I can feel my heart turning to a stone

Everytime I run towards love, i could

feel my stone cold heart knocking

against my rib cage

it breaks my bones

it hurts a lot

and sit still for a while

until it goes away.

Until I meet someone new

who again makes me want to feel

embrace the warmth.

But the cycle continues.

somedays, the urge to disappear from the face this earth is very enchanting to me

just like taylor would say

"My elegies, eulogize me "

On days where i want to be wrapped

around your arms

I want to be embraced in the warmth

Of your presence

i suck your blood.

Jenny Hval, from Girls Against God

On some days, I feel this deep longing

For someone.

To be held, to feel my heartbeat

To feel the warmth of my body

Against someone.

On some nights, I sleep listening

To slow love songs.

Pretend that its raining outside

And wrap myself around

The warmth of a comforter and

Fall asleep

Pretending that I'm being loved by someone.

I don't know what is this urge of a human

To be loved so deeply,

That everything else seems insignificant.

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Lytton Strachey (September 1925)

"Bare your soul to me"

-Janet Suhh

Its so offensive to see other live the life you've prayed for. That feeling is so raw, like I see that there might be some god up there and he definitely has some favorites.

“How long will it feel like burning, said the child trying to be kind.”

— Anne Carson, from Decreation; Lines.

They say, "they want a lover." But I want something more than a lover. I want him in ways that make me feel weak, vulnerable, terrifying, possessive, and soft-hearted all at the same time. I want him to consume me, and I want to consume him. His entire world, his words, his thoughts, each and every breath that he takes with me. I want a lover that scares me to my core and rips me apart every night, only to be consumed by him in a way it feels like my entirety makes some sense. My existence should be threatened by him and possess him to explore me more and more and more until there's no more of us left within. I want to hold him in my arms and softly hum in his ears on days where the entire world is falling apart for him, where the existence seems to be denying us. I want him to love and love me and love me and love me until I feel like bitting him in the neck and leaving him breathless with all the tension between us. I want to see his soul and make him feel weak and strong both at the same time. And then when I leave him, I want him to crave for us like no other.

Quotes by Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

― Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma

Andrea Gibson

last day of august.

Dear September,

I hope you will be kind, would you please leave the bad behind. Each month I ask the same, to others of a different name. But I have a feeling that you, september, will grant my request, just let this month be one of peace, one of the best, I'll figure out the rest.

Kind Regards, someone living life with hope and a tired heart.

Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“Sometimes not telling people anything is a good thing.”

— Jason Myers