Has Anyone Else Noticed That Being Alive Is Like. Not The Most Dignified Experience Ever

i have so much rage in me one day i think i will explode. i dont think i know how to forgive as much as i know how to forget

Precious

The puppy is no longer young but he is still small and fits in the crook of my arm like a sleeping babe all sleep-warm and honey-slow blinking up at me with wide black eyes.

I hold his tiny face in my cupped careful palms press a kiss into the wisp-light fur at the nape of his neck and tell him like a vow: You are so good and so precious and so beloved.

And a soft, gentle thing in the cavern of my chest slowly rises to reply heartbeat-quiet: We are. We are. We are.

- by sylvie (j.p.)

somtimes I see the world and think "why would anyone want to live here?" and then I see a really bad ass picture of a mountain and I rememer

it really is insane how waking up early will grant you access to some of the most beautiful sights and sensations in the world that will make you want to live forever, but only if you overcome the gauntlet of a thousand razors that is getting out of bed early. truly one of life's little saw traps.

When summer evenings feel like this gif it’s beautiful and it’s worth it

I saw a city die

However dramatic we make death out to be, really, a human death is quite easy. Your heart stops. Once. One kind of death for everyone.

Have you ever seen a city die? It's not one death. It's uncountable. A tree so big you can't watch its fall. Like you can't watch the sun travel. There it is. You get distracted. Something flashes on your wall. You look out. It is gone.

A city's deaths are very varied. Some are gardens dying. Some gardens don't die, but really they do. Really, they're dead.

Some are wild trees dying. The ones we watered by mistake, or by a thread of benevolence. Strung through palms and generations, maybe. A collective nurturing, and every solitary splash thought it was alone. They die, until they become the kind of sticks who's snaps are anonymous. There is nothing here.

Some are people leaving. There are a lot of those. But if you watch people leave, you notice they were the ones who came in the first place. Not the ones who already were.

The ones who already were always are. They are the city. Killing an elephant takes rounds of lead to the heart. Still it takes hours untill it falls, days until it stops breathing. It's not easy, killing a dragon. Those that are must be killed differently. They do not leave. But you can make their home hostile to them. Twist and contort it until those that are have no place to be. They find a new spot, of course. A new city. Who's life blood they aren't.

A city dies a hundred deaths. Like watching someone assemble a puzzle, it's not dramatic enough to watch the process. Like sand falling. Suddenly the glass is empty.

The problem is the body. It's our symbol, vessel and object of death. Without it we don't recognise decay.

Death of a city is the rarest thing you'll see. The bigger, the less you see it. The most imposing, the less you'll watch. The more lights, the less you notice the void.

Because it's a lie. And when you notice. Finally notice,

all you see are the whisps; floating. No sound. Unwatched. No meaning in silence. Nothing. Pathetic in the way they outline whatever isn't there anymore.

This is actually so creative I can't even

Dandelion

You open your eyes and look around So bright and blue, the sky You’re in your mother’s embrace, so safe and sound Till the wind blows out and makes you fly

You fly around in the wind’s embrace You see a child running after you With giggles and a big grin on his face You’ve never felt so special, have you?

Suddenly, you’re grabbed by a hand, so wild And you close your eyes in fear But when you open your eyes you see a beautiful child And you know that it’s going to be safe here

The child smiles and whispers down in your ear And you feel so contented to hear his secret You feel happier when he says “you’re beautiful, oh dear” As he continues wishing for a little pet

He blows you away and the wind catches you  But now you finally understood That there’s nothing else that you want to do Because being a dandelion feels so good

i think we should be talking about the semi-recent advancements in cystic fibrosis treatment like all the time every day. there hasn’t been a drug like this since AZT medications for HIV infection it is truly fucking miraculous and very important

you cant even begin poems with "i will sodomise and facef uck you" anymore. because of woke .

Menci Clement Crnčić (Croatian, 1865–1930), "A View of Novi Vinodolski"