deployed | visualize.

"I'm mad at you because these days being mad at you is as close as I get to kissing your forehead.

Edited 2015-08-02 17:24 (UTC)

"Anybody can become angry - that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not within everybody's power and is not easy."

Words were written on the walls, my white blood in capitals
Well, I spoke to the captain, he won't turn around
He said "The sun is an orange, and the wind's just the sound
Of our brothers and sisters, lovers and those that we'll never know."

Edited 2016-02-22 06:49 (UTC)

And all the people say
"You can't wake up, this is not a dream, you're part of a machine, you are not a human being
With your face all made up, living on a screen, low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline"
I think there's a flaw in my code, these voices won't leave me alone
Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.

Brother, you've been sluggin' whiskey
Fashioned all your crosses to numb your blood and body, to withstand your split losses
But you found no holy cities in the bottom of your glass
And so you cry out Zion, please, make my last sips last
Pious brother to your vices you were shunned and burned your cradle
Claim killer, you claim martyr, my brother Cain my brother Able
And there are evenings I recall I was older than your years
Ram headed son, prodigal gun, shot with mama's tears

"I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes; on my face they are still together."

Edited 2016-04-24 16:39 (UTC)

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.

Edited 2016-04-24 16:47 (UTC)

"Sometimes we lose pieces of who we are in times of great sorrow and distress. And then we have to find a way to get them back."

Your cities are a wilderland, look upon your children
Your cities are a wilderland, look upon your, look upon
Your highways are a wilderland, look upon your children
Your highways are a wilderland, look upon your, look upon your
Look upon your children, wandering in the wilderland

But I smell their blood. My finger's trace their faces in the wood.
I hear their voices somewhere in my bones. I feel them sing along when I'm alone.
When I'm not too frightened that is when I know that I'm here with everyone
They're never truly gone.
I know it's everyone and I hear their songs.
Oh, I'm lost with everyone.

We were tight knit boys, Brothers in more than name
You would kill for me and knew that I'd do the same
And it cut me sharp, hearing you'd gone away
But everything goes away. Yeah, everything goes away
But I'm going to be here until I'm nothing but bones in the ground
And I was there, when you grew restless, left in the dead of night
And I was there, when three months later
You were standing in the door all beat and tired and I stepped aside

Stay and come out of the rain, colder as the years go
Warm yourself again, yeah, low, the sun is sinking
Colder as the years go on, oh, on yourself again
So long, fresh breath of innocence, so long to the life we used to know
'Cause every time I close my eyes I want to disappear with you
And I hope you want to disappear, too

Now you pull me near you, when we're close, I fear you
Still I'm afraid to tell you, all that I've done
Are you done forgiving? Oh can you look past my pretending?
Lord, I'm so tired of defending, what I've become. What have I become?

Edited 2016-08-25 00:23 (UTC)

I wonder if it will always be like this, the
small twist in the base of my throat, the
pain of swallowing “I’m fine” and “I like being
alone.”

It sits in the back of my skull, carves itself
into the bone, makes a home for its parasitic
body and soul.

Edited 2016-09-13 11:29 (UTC)

( x )

This, history of raw & howling is not dead,
neither are you.

Look at this sadness,
slurring and gnarled
and damaged.
Like ink floating dark
under water.
My chest houses a church
of unsaid things I want to
raze to the ground.

the courage
to love
like a wound

that never
heals.

Edited 2017-02-11 22:06 (UTC)

My soul itself may be straight and good;
ah, but my heart, my bent-over blood,
all the distortions that hurt me inside—
it buckles under these things.

Edited 2017-02-11 22:07 (UTC)

( x )

Edited 2017-03-26 20:49 (UTC)

"Angry, and half in love with you, and tremendously sorry, I turned away."

"There are so many things that demand to be said. Where did you go? Do you ever think about me? You’ve ruined me. Are you okay? But of course, I can’t say any of that."

Edited 2017-06-07 02:19 (UTC)

The prizefighter and the heiress, both talented in their way
Both fighting for inheritance, both entitled to their day
Said the fella “I’ve thrown my gloves and loosed my shoes
Come join me in the ring my friend
Quit these lonesome blues, quit my lonesome blues”
The lady thought the longest while and bathed the time in light
She came to the conclusion that he hadn’t won the fight
“Put your gloves back on,” she says “And steady with your pride
You’ve dealt the eldest hand my love but that part of me has died”

You don’t want to hear the story
of my life, and anyway
I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen

to the enormous waterfalls of the sun.

And anyway it’s the same old story – - -
a few people just trying,
one way or another,
to survive.

Mostly, I want to be kind.
And nobody, of course, is kind,
or mean,
for a simple reason.

And nobody gets out of it, having to
swim through the fires to stay in
this world.

I have never known a closeness like that.
—Anne Carson

The backseat
of dad’s car, warm limbs
pressing, stale sleep smell
in our mouths. Whenever
heads touched, our
dreams were related
by blood.
It all was a kind of magic
then.
Now, I get off the plane
and keep waiting for the part
where you need me again.
We eat Turkish delight
wrapped in tissue paper,
and the gaunt moon
salivates. Years ago we stood
side by side
on the driveway at night,
moths spilling white dust
onto our palms.

visualize.

references.

quotes.

fst.

CLEMENTINE VON RADICS.

ARISTOTLE.

BLACK DOG SIN, JOSHUA BURNSIDE

GASOLINE, HALSEY

TABLE SONG, KATIE KUFFEL.

WARSAN SHIRE.

WILD GEESE, MARY OLIVER.

TRACY HOLCZER, THE SECRET HUM OF A DAISY.

WILDERLAND, ANAIS MITCHELL

THE CROOKED KIND, RADICAL FACE

ALWAYS GOLD, RADICAL FACE

DISAPPEAR, MIKKY EKKO

TIMES, TWELVE AVENUE NORTH

THE NIGHTS WHEN I CAN'T PROTECT MYSELF, KANIKA LAWTON

no subject

no subject

ANA CARRIZO, LEANING TO SWIM HALF-ASLEEP

ANA CARRIZO, UNSAID THINGS.

ERICA JONG.

RAINER MARIA RILKE; SELECTED POEMS

no subject

no subject

no subject

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD, THE GREAT GATSBY.

WHERE SHE WENT, GAYLE FORMAN

no subject

THE PRIZEFIGHTER AND THE HEIRESS, JOHNNY FLYNN

DOGFISH, MARY OLIVER.

FOR MY BROTHER, NATASHA RAO