Everything You Did To Me, I Remember.

Rough Scribbles for a painting. Hopefully I can start this weekend. #graffiti #painting #canvas #bird #kingfisher #wings #flying #feathers

i am tired and uninspired

i am used batteries

i am talent-less i am stale

i am a book thats been read and now sits on the shelf

i am a broken guitar string

i am useless

i am invisible

everyday i feel like i’m at war with the world

some days i feel like im standing on the tallest mountain,

screaming at the top of my lungs

”look at me, please, look at me“

if loneliness ever needed a defention,

it‘d be me

i see countless faces everyday

but do they see me? NO!

i am alone

i am invisible

all i wanna do is help other people like me

i wanna hold you and kiss your scars

and say ”i swear to god it‘ll be okay“

not today, but one day

one day, you‘ll wake up and smile for no damn reason

but today, we can cry

today we can be invisible.

invisible by dandelion hands

"I had a room to myself as a kid, but my mother was always quick to point out that it wasn't my room, it was her room and I was merely permitted to occupy it. Her point, of course, was that my parents had earned everything and I was merely borrowing the space, and while this is technically true I cannot help but marvel at the singular damage of this dark idea: That my existence as a child was a kind of debt and nothing, no matter how small, was mine. That no space was truly private; anything of mine could be forfeited at someone else's whim."

Carmen Maria Machado, from In the Dream House

damn baby you are beyond mortal comprehension, wanna make me insane?

She finally voiced  her deepest desires in vivid detail, she just disguised it all as a distant dream.

- G.L. Angelone

“it was a cry / meant for no one / but the moon—”

— Sujata Bhatt, from “The Langur Coloured Night”, Collected Poems

06/04/2021

How can meaning be found,

When light keeps pouring in and out of you?

 Blinded,

yet everseeing.

 A call for higher purpose,

an eagle’s cry

heard in the distance.

Pain is seared in the follow-up response,

Nothing alike earthly sensation.

It stretches far and wide,

beneath your body,

above your soul,

nowhere in the middle,

for it does not locate

where the mind can get ahold of it,

 Has destiny been set on stone,

or is the latter our own pliable existence?

 “Repond.”

 “How?”

 “Just respond.”

 For longer than an eternity could ever be,

it waited.

What for?

 For oneself,

no sin can be condone,

no doubt can be harbored.

 To build yourself,

You must be destroyed.

By what hands,

Will determine the freedom of your well’s boundaries.

 To be teared up,

And shown bare in your true essence

 Oh how tangible can pure fear be.

 Now drown in yourself.

Now be your fear.

Now,

play in your abyss,

for there is where your meaning resides.

“I’ve got nothing to say but it’s okay.”

— The Beatles, Good Morning, Good Morning

“I can’t tell you exactly what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when it happens. I want to be breathless and weak, crumpled by the entrance of another person inside my soul.”

— Aimee Bender, The Girl in the Flammable Skirt