(Source: thetvscreen, via athousandpens)
(Source: alexxxiselizabeth, via pleinedespoir)
(via pleinedespoir)
the first time we spend hours in each
other’s space, i apologized for my
feet being so disgustingly human. you
kissed the small hill of my ankle and
told me that
i was beautiful. you said it
in a way that was flat, and honest,
as if you had seen it written in the pages
of a book, or else painted it on your skin
and memorized it by touching your body
over and over. i laughed, but i really meant
‘i love you too much already’.
challenge for comics class in which we had to complete the same number of pages in however many hours we spent on it over all. I spent nine hours on mine and made a nine page comic. (simply, hours spent = number of pages)
it was definitely a challenge, but I think I got better with it as I got used to the time constraints. it was really exhausting, though.
this one is (obviously) very much about body image issues, something that everyone has to deal with at some point or another.
This is fucking perfect.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Tilda Swinton
—Like This
Rumi, “Like This”
(as read by Tilda Swinton)
(as read by Tilda Swinton)
If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this.
When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the night sky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
Like this.
If anyone wants to know what “spirit” is,
or what “God’s fragrance” means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
Like this.
When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.
Like this.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.
Like this.
Like this.
When someone asks what it means
to “die for love,” point
here.
If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.
This tall.
The soul sometimes leaves the body, then returns.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
When lovers moan,
they’re telling our story.
Like this.
I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Like this.
When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.
Like this.
How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?
How did Jacob’s sight return?
A little wind cleans the eyes.
Like this.
When Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he’ll put just his head around the edge
of the door to surprise us
Like this.
(Source: yaramaznick)
Richard Siken, “A Primer for the Small Weird Loves” [excerpt]
So you say you want a deathbed scene, the knowledge that comes
before knowledge,
and you want it dirty.
And no one can ever figure out what you want,
and you won’t tell them,
and you realize the one person in the world who loves you
isn’t the one you thought it would be,
and you don’t trust him to love you in a way
you would enjoy.
And the boy who loves you the wrong way is filthy.
And the boy who loves you the wrong way keeps weakening.
You thought if you handed over your body
he’d do something interesting.
(Source: jennifercoldsweat, via pleinedespoir)
