ostensibilis

[ostensibilis]

#151

[ostensibilis]

— Ocean Vuong, Because It’s Summer

[ostensibilis]

[ostensibilis]

when u listen to an entire album from start to finish it becomes part of your bone structure btw

[ostensibilis]

anyway I’m feelin out the sadness

[ostensibilis]

regarding the röttgen pietà, elle emerson

[ostensibilis]

mary oliver

[ostensibilis]

The Castle by Franz Kafka

[ostensibilis]

[ostensibilis]

[ostensibilis]

[ostensibilis]

Langston Hughes (1902-1967), ‘Tired’, “New Masses”, Vol. 6, #9, Feb. 1931 Source

[ostensibilis]

Natalie Díaz, from "American Arithmetic", Postcolonial Love Poem

[ostensibilis]

Night is my mother. She wears many faces, has seen the glittering hand of God. She pulls silver from the sky, names from the sea like fish. There is enough. There is enough. There is never enough.

— Sun Yung Shin, from “An Orphan Considers the Hand of God,” The Wet Hex

[ostensibilis]

Charlotte Eriksson

[ostensibilis]

journal excerpt, july first

[ostensibilis]

actually, growing up is feeling like i turned sixteen two days ago. i’ve been eighteen for years. fifteen year olds seem so young. wasn’t i fifteen just a few weeks ago? all my friends and i are still twelve. i’m closer to thirty then to being a baby. i never got to be a kid. i never grew past eight. i can’t talk to my mom. i want to sit in her lap forever. the week is going by so slow. an entire year has passed. i want to decide everything for myself. i need someone to tell me exactly what to do.