"You can’t control whether or not you have talent. You can’t control whether or not your work will be recognized or valued. But what you can control is how much work you put your art—both in terms of creating it and in terms of getting it out there—and that is where I try to focus my energy."

Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, interviewed for Some Weird Sin (via bostonpoetryslam)


see what people don’t get
is that you can be doing okay for
days weeks months
and all it takes is one word, one look,
one wrong thing
and suddenly your body becomes an avalanche,
you become a disaster zone and
winter retakes your soul

and girls like me, we walk around with caution tape around
our fingers, with hearts so heavy that our arms
are sick of dragging them along with us, we are
cities that are constantly in danger
of being set on fire
i mean what if your own mind was the reason
you couldn’t sleep
what if you woke up this morning because your brain was
talking too loudly, what if the only time you feel
good about yourself
is when you feel

and boys like me and people like me and
rabbit-hearted lovers who just want to feel
the morning sun
without wondering if we should start our workouts now, who
just want to hug our families again without
worrying they’ll notice we reek of our own
who just want to go to our friend’s house without
turning down every food offered only to
offend her:
we are so afraid of what will happen -
of what does happen -
when we slip for a second and our control
goes spiraling
so we give into every word the voices in our head
are saying, we give up our thick hair
we give up our strong bones, we give up
calling this body
our home
in search of an image that’s been
sold to us so strongly
we’d give up our everything
just to feel

and broken little human beings like me
we live like tornadoes and too-calm seas,
trapped in a horrific dance between
a beautiful and inspiring recovery and
opening our windows just to feel
the breeze and finding ourselves
stepping out on that ledge,
a deeper hunger in our hearts
than anyone ever sees: this
odd and sudden need
to just become a brittle white
chalk outline
to paint these empty streets.


For the person who requested a poem about how addicting eating disorders can be. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

"I had to spit your name out of my mouth
because it stood on the backs of my teeth
and I kept cutting my tongue on it.

My poems for you came out in some weird hue
I’ve never seen before with
undertones of desperation.
I’m tired of it."

3:58 p.m. (I’m going to stop writing about you)

"This is not your problem. You have your own body to deal with. The lamp by the bed is broken. You are feeling things he’s no longer in touch with. And everyone is speaking softly, so as not to wake one another. The wind knocks the heads of the flowers together. Steam rises from every cup at every table at once. Things happen all the time, things happen every minute that have nothing to do with us."

Richard Siken, “A Primer for the Small Weird Loves” (via rhymine)

"Look girl, you are a holy ocean into which boys willingly plunge. They are standing on your shore, dying to drown in you. Look girl, we can all tell you hold too many untouched continents to count. We have our flags ready, hoping that you will let one of us claim you. Here is the truth: You are not like the others. You ring in our ears, you tangle our vocal chords. We sing you in our sleep. You are not like the rest. You are a bruise, you are a stain. And when you leave, the memory of you long remains. Your laugh is louder, your heart a shouter, your skin a secret we hope to breathe. We speak you like a promise-true, not yet ruined, always slightly out-of-tune. But, like all good things, you are so easily cracked and broken. You contain so much of what we want to be that we threaten to drain you completely. So, I tell you this: Keep your hills green, your lakes full of fish, your sunsets unphotographed. We will do nothing but cover you in slobber. Keep your trees standing, your passion demanding, your heart shining like the moon. When we come by the shipload, turn us away. We will only mark you, then leave. And you deserve so much more than our footprints on you."

I Have Thrown You Into The Sky Because That Is The Only Place You’re Safe | Lora Mathis  (via lora-mathis)


You do this, you do.

You take the things you love and tear them apart
or you pin them down with your body and pretend they’re yours.



The first time
that I fucked you
was in my mind
in my mind
which was exactly as it should be
for I was 12 years old
and would never have known
what to put where
and when
but you were a vision
all tanned legs and long curly hair
and I had to learn your name
had to learn your name
was Thyra
and the games we played
in my mind
would have made Anaïs Nin blush
even though I had no idea
who Anaïs Nin was
because I was 12, yo

The second time
that I fucked you
was in my mind
in my mind
which was exactly as it should be
for I was living with your friend
and she would have never understood
the lewd flesh sculptures we were forming
and why
but you were a vision
with your sexy smile and mischievous eyes
and I silently mouthed your name
silently mouthed your name
you, Thyra
and the lust we shared
in my mind
would have made Barry White blush
even though I’d never heard
a Barry White song
I was a punk rocker, you know

The third time
that I fucked you
was in my mind
in my mind
which was exactly as it should be
for you were living with my friend
and it would have broken his heart
to know I was seducing your body
and mind
but you were a vision
with your perfect breasts and come hither look
and I spoke your name aloud
spoke your name aloud
yes, Thyra
and the wild love we made
in my mind
would have made Ron Jeremy blush
even though I could never stand
to watch one of his movies
he’s a fat, disgusting pig, isn’t he?

The last time
that I fucked you
was in my mind
in my mind
which is exactly as it should be
for even though you’re my wife now
I still dream about you
every single night
and day
and you are a vision
with your non-judgmental love and your welcoming arms
and I scream your name with love
scream your name with love
my Thyra
and the crazy lust we’re sharing now
in my mind
is fantastic enough to make Annie Sprinkle blush
even though you have no idea
who the hell Annie Sprinkle is
you should look her up, I think


Max Mundan, The First Time (that I fucked you)

© David Rutter 2014

Follow me on twitter @dmr226

(via maxmundan)

"Poetry’s favourite moment is when one loses one’s footing because of a landslide or seismic shaking of thought."

MIchel Leiris, Brisees (via quoted-books)

"I’m not good with people.
I have a habit of taking their hands,
walking down the street of happenstance
with (blind) trust between our fingers,
and making memories along the road.
I let them become a habit
and a part of my daily routine.
I take their words and keep them
sheltered and safe
in the walls of my mind.
I find life in their eyes and their smiles
and make it my skin,
shedding these layers of sadness
that have covered me for quite some time.
Eventually, I think this is my ultimate weakness.
It’s scary to open your ribcage,
allow your monsters to come out,
and let people in
because there is a possibility that
they’ll become monsters themselves,
trapped inside your chest.
(But I hope someday,
someone will take my hand
and be the habit I won’t have to try to unlearn,
the routine I won’t have to try to forget,
and the presence in my chest
that won’t turn into something
I’ll have to extract)."

"Be still, sad heart and cease repining
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining
Thy fate is the common fate of all
Into each life some rain must fall."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Submitted by: flitterling! - Thanks!

(via quoted-books)