"The Truth Is, I Pretend To Be A Cynic, But I Am Really A Dreamer Who Is Terrified Of Wanting Something

poem: learning to listen to your voice

i have not been writing much lately,

for i feel i do not possess the “right” words to say,

and i have been tossing more poems

than i have been finishing—

i am learning that

sometimes not saying anything

is better than saying something

empty—

so i have spent nights sitting,

paying attention to the silence

despite the hundreds of distractions

begging to break the stillness

on account of their desire to be

constantly moving—

yet, i do not want to be the one always speaking,

acting as if i deserve that kind of authority,

just because i want so desperately to avoid

doing nothing—

i have not been writing much lately,

but i am not doing nothing;

in fact,

i am finally learning to listen.

-j.g. edge

Cosimo di Giovanni de' Medici (detail) by Bronzino

You and I were never meant to be. Our worlds have nothing in common except you like talking and I like listening.

is it just me or do everyone delete their posts because the holy spirit slapped some sense into you and you're not the same person you were 10 minutes ago

everytime i open tumblr, a voice in my head says, "oh i gotta read those books i bought to relate with these posts."

but shortly after another says, "nope!"

sorry professor i did not do this asisgnemtn becuase i was too sad! NO consequences please. goodbye

“I’m not wise at all. I told you, I know nothing. I know books, and I know how to string words together—it doesn’t mean I know how to speak about the things that matter most to me.”

~ André Aciman , call me by your name

Faceless bodies → Whisper of the Heart (1995)

thinking about Kait Rokowski writing, "nothing ever ends poetically, it ends and we turn it into poetry. all that blood was never once beautiful. it was just red." and losing it