#spilled prose

[golden-letters]

bitch this is all you’re gonna get. this life, this face, this body. you better not ‘maybe in another universe’ your way out of everything. sit your ass down and face this. go make tea and have a picnic and read a goddamn book. kiss your loved ones, send that damn text, and hug your siblings. this is all you’re gonna get.

[bebs-art-gallery]

Dear Desolation by Eliran Kantor † Love of the Wolf by Hélène Cixous

[iambrillyant]

“your gut instinct is not a liar, those initial feelings exist for a reason, sit on them if you need to, process whether your feelings are valid or just projections, but never dismiss your intuition when the signs are staring you in the face and your nervous system is agreeing.”

— iambrillyant

[icefrog00]

— Me (ice frog) // is there a right way to feel?

[nikasholistic]

When you feel better, you attract better. When you feel better, you raise your frequency. When you’re in a higher frequency, your entire reality improves. The blueprint for leaving the life of your dreams comes from within. Everything you need to succeed is already within you. The world of your thoughts and emotions shapes the reality around you.

[bebx]

— Reema Sherin, Strings

[tulipsofthemorning]

[fsnavratil]

one day i'll come home again

//fs navratil

[thewaitingluna]

I’d like to disappear for a while. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to know anything.

[selenepluto]

"We humans are so obsessed with escapism, through movies, books, art, music , and daydreams. Our souls truly aren't made for this world."

~unknown

[golden-letters]

mum says loved ones who have passed on returns to visit in dreams on the seventh day since their death. it was your seventh day last night. i dreamt of you. i find it poetic and so, so, so sad. i ran to you and hugged you. i lifted you up. i told you we love you and i hope you know it forever. i thought of you this morning in the car. i wept when one of your favourite songs came on. i cried when my mum told me that loved ones who have passed on returns to visit in dreams on the seventh day since their death. i can’t believe it’s been a week.

[almostsomewheremaybe]

the men in Palestine cry too

did you know the men in Palestine cry too?

tremble with fear. shake and shiver in the cold.

they blush, bruise, and bleed red like any woman or child.

they dream and pray and smile and sing. they are poetry enough. worthy of the name ‘innocent’.

the men in Palestine despair and anguish and hope against hope.

beneath their ribs are hearts where women and children are kept safe forever.

they’re the same as us in every way but one…

the men in Palestine remember each other. they remember each other, even as the whole world forgets they die too.

[iambrillyant]

“walking down your authentic path can be one of the loneliest roads to travel on because the longer you’re on it, the more you realize that only a select few will be compatible with who you are with no mask on.”

— billy chapata

[umabokil]

There is a rotten feeling of melancholy and loneliness on some nights which you can’t quite explain. You suddenly want to be buried—whether under the ground, under a comforter, or in a hug that’s here to stay, you don’t yet know—but you suddenly feel like mould and dust and the colour of a funeral on a dull day; you suddenly want to sit in the middle of a puddle of gloom and stare off at the white wall till daybreak peeks through the window crack. You want away; you want the ocean bed; you want stillness; you want nothingness. Because you feel like nothingness.

[your-favorite-overachiever]

[deanepoetry]

Let’s paint your body with blush.