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— Mary Kate Teske

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They made me cry and I wondered if I made noice when I walked out the door, so aware of the crook.

I made noice with a crystal cup from the hallway and no one came.

I am used to the silence of abandonment and call it stillness.

In the storm, someone will someday come and find me, someone will one day translate my tears and hear the piano in the background of my dripping heart.

I hurt, i alone. But met a ghost to stand behind me, and freed a soul with my gentle caress in the key notes. I used to scream for help.

In a way it was stillness.

In a way I wouldn’t wanted to be alone.

In a way a hug would’ve saved me.

I can’t hug a ghost, and a door can’t cry. And a glass can’t scream. But I did.

All in the name of being a little more tender.

And subsequently healing trough the pain.

I’m so glad I have a home to go home to, and my momma to hug me if I dare to ask.

A place to surrender.

- CARSON

— Silas Melvin

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I fall into the ground when your hands around my ankles get warm. Like force, I couldn’t stay. You made me cry.

— Arthur Miller, The Crucible

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Years of pressure and heat can cause the ink in photos to transfer directly onto plastic, a process known as image bleeding.

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Is he implying to abuse of the drunken girl? Use your hand dumbass! (I’m angry)

sunday night by Raymond Carver

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(“Goth” )

Si dateara un cirujano, mi kink más grande sería que me huciera sentir mis costillas. Y me mataría, porque querría sentí cada partícula de mi carne y sentir la sangre derramar por mi brazo, goteando poco a poco y solo sintiendo,e a mi misma.

I mean- gracias for cutting me open I guess…

I get (got) it from here.

.

.

. Carson, 12:38 oct. 7th

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Brontë sound good for me.

when kafka said ‘you wouldn’t believe the kind of person I could become if you wanted it’ and when brontë said ‘if you ever looked at me with what I know is in you, I would be your slave’ and when Sartre said ‘if I’ve got to suffer it may as well be at your hands’

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fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuxk

Should I be grateful or should I curse the fact that despite all misfortune I can still feel love.

-Franz Kafka

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@iwrite-love

@saturn-metaphors

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“For the heart, life is simple: it beats for as long as it can. Then it stops.”― Karl Ove Knausgård, My Struggle 1

Painting: "The Patient" by Vasily Polenov

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my vision became clear

“When you stand in front of me and look at me, what do you know of the griefs that are in me and what do I know of yours? And if I were to cast myself down before you and weep and tell you, what more would you know about me than you know about Hell when someone tells you it is hot and dreadful? For that reason alone we human beings ought to stand before one another as reverently, as reflectively, as lovingly, as we would before the entrance to Hell.”

— Franz Kafka

[braceletinmyleft]

“When you stand in front of me and look at me, what do you know of the griefs that are in me and what do I know of yours? And if I were to cast myself down before you and weep and tell you, what more would you know about me than you know about Hell when someone tells you it is hot and dreadful? For that reason alone we human beings ought to stand before one another as reverently, as reflectively, as lovingly, as we would before the entrance to Hell.”

— Franz Kafka

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I woke up today.

After all of my dreams. After living in all that I am in my dreadful land of unspoken words. Of un spelled truths and belongings.

The past 3 days haven’t been easy for me, because what is? And I was faced with my demons and my lovers full faced. Asking me: what will it be? What will it be dude? Answer. You have t9 make a choice, what? Are you going to cry? What’s it gonna be, then? Answer.

And as I was cornered I was unable to answer. Because if breaking my silence would make me face a choice, why was I to speak?

Why was I to move, when i could stay still?

Letting them come to me, bump with and bounce in my chest to fly into the air and become a cloud…

There was a storm yesterday, and the day before. Movies say that God is in the rain, and I choose to place that meaning onto it. Although my beliefs are a mix of spiritual, system, faith, and love and darkness. Yes or no. Black and light. But very rarely religious.

I went outside, took the cooler from my kitchen with me and opened it in the middle of a storm to catch some water, because the earth was kind and sad enough to share and overflow, maybe by force, our houses.

We are responsible for the rain. As we are responsible for our chapters and our stories.

I could sit and tell myself a lot of stories with all my experiences crumbled to pieces and adding dust of my soul to glue them together and share them with myself and the world. But is it really worth it to just sit here and let my mind wonder while I could put my sneakers on and walk across the street to the trees?

We are responsible for this.

Is what I tell to myself. And I could wonder “why”. I could sit here and unfold the past. But it would just be a force of habit.

People say that you shouldn’t blame others for your experiences, or for what happened to you. But if I invited you to my home to put the chandelier up and you broke a piece or leave it hanging crooked. Would that be my bad or yours? And most highly, now is my responsibility to fix your causes? I thought that you would validate that I invited you inside my home. And if not, at least that you would respect the anatomy of my house and the walls that connect in the corners to hold my ceiling up my head.

.

.

.

I have to get things out of my chest, and that is why I allow myself, right now in this space, to maybe not make enough sense for some. But to trust that there is people out there, that just to bring me a little comfort, and leaving things broken as they are, feel the same.

+ Not to fix, but to love.”

- CARSON.

9:34 am, East. Friday 27th of September, 2024.

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i wish romance was real and not just displaced longing for what was missing in the past

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"I love you , I'm glad we're friends"

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