Sealed in a mason jar, formaldehyde holds my heart. “you’ve got no one to love so you don’t need this part.” That’s the only thing they said when they left me out for dead. I had a heart, and it had a beat. I had a beat, and I kept it pretty well. But without a reason, it won’t do what it’s suppose to do. I just need you here to encourage it through. Cause I can’t...
I’m empty, got a crack that cannot be filled from the direction I run. I sit here and know you must pour me to full, but there’s always distance between reality and my mind. I stumble toward the water trough, thirsty but am not fulfilled. I was parched as I went, parched as I came. These dry bones amble on. I will accept none as a substitute, yet cannot rest in reliance. They set me...
always wondered about this one; now I can put it... →
I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t...– Neil Gaiman (via atomos)
“ open wide my door, my Lord, to whatever makes me love you more. open wide my door, while there’s still light to run toward. ”
I like to be sick it’s a feeling out of the ordinary; rare. Accustomed to swimmin’ in pools of desire, I am like a sponge that lacks, soaking messy possessions up. Each pore drowns itself unbeknownst to it’s neighbor. Suddenly weighing more than suits viability. The whole cannot be squeezed in an instant, each pore cannot be poured. I seek intervention for this wicked...
We must hold each other as we would a wounded bird. If we grip too tightly, we...– Henri J. M. Nouwen, French priest
A Valediction Forbidding Mourning
As virtuous men pass mildly’ away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say The breath goes now, and some say, no; So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move, ‘Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love. Moving of th’earth brings...
“Who has believed what he has heard from us? And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed? For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their...
I don’t regret anything I’ve ever said; I regret saying it too...
Dear greenworld, eat more wheatgrass. →