diametrijenesis

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“The memories moved in him like worms under the skin.”

—Catriona Ward, The Last House on Needless Street

#quotes #memories #catriona ward #new blogs

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“There was a pain in Muriel to become herself that engaged my heart. I knew what it was like to be haunted by the ghost of a self one wished to be, but only half sensed.”

—Audre Lord, Zami: A New Spelling of My Name

#quotes #audre lorde #self #new blogs

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Using Digressions to Evade Death

“Death is hidden in clocks… Every means and every weapon is valid to save oneself from death and time. If a straight line is the shortest distance between two fated and inevitable points, digressions will lengthen it; and if these digressions become so complex, so tangled and tortuous, so rapid as to hide their own tracks, who knows — perhaps death may not find us, perhaps time will lose its way, and perhaps we ourselves can remain concealed in our shifting hiding places.” —Carlo Levi’s introduction to Tristram Shandy

Timely: from cursed clocks to wind-up dresses, clock imps to clocks with faces, here’s my collection of vintage timepieces.

#reblogs #quotes #time

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#pins #autism #reblogs

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windows open on a cool summer night; the mind is quiet and the land is still, still revealing the faint rush of traffic; a periphery, a rhythm— blood in the vein.

#poetry #night #newblogs

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I've come to the realization that I like to talk but I don't like talking to people. When I talk to people, especially new people, I never know what to expect but talking to myself is so simple and stress free. Now if only people would stop assuming that I'm crazy.

#this

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to force me out of silence

I can’t get things to lie flat. The material keeps bunching up along its edges and, as I tend to it, another side curls in on itself.

I’m twisted now, again, between ‘being there’ and protecting myself. To give one costs the other and I can’t sustainably do both. Only at my very strongest do others cease to crawl inside of me where they feel their emotions and bleed them out into me.

If they’re not bleeding I should be talking, talking, talk, talk, talking talk talk. Others only want to talk. Talk to me. To talk to them. Talk it out. They want nauseatingly fixed ideas formed as hard, solid words like matter pulled from my stomach; up like vomit, up and out and onto them all of these hard pieces linked together, gagged and retched out of me. To talk is to unravel all that I’ve managed to keep together as one piece, one knot tethering me to to me and as I speak I seep out of myself, out and away from whatever center I had found. This loss is perhaps the hardest to bear; the knowing that I had felt an anchor take hold somewhere only to lose it, to lose the line entirely. As long as I’m open it doesn’t much seem to matter to anyone else if I’m seeping.

How many times do I have to build myself up into these hard and fixed words before I’m seen in my own image? Will I still be those words or will I already have shifted by the time understanding finally lands, assuming it lands at all. And how many times will you knock them down, carelessly, in your own flailing, where and when what I am now is no longer convenient and I must revert, revert to what was known. This is suffocating and perverse—trying to pull from my throat the corpse of someone that never existed.

#deardiary #bpd #borderline #autism #newblogs #blogs

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Blue Monday, Steve ESPO Powers

#reblogs

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a wet clot plugs the base of me. and i, sweetness itself as i piss between your legs and relieve that, at least, while greed-clenching the rest; straining hard like a snotty nose after a good hard fast sobbing struggling cry. my vagina, my hole, falls lazy and heavy from behind her parted curtain wanting the sun—to lick and feed in glowing warmth. silky water from her hungry lips tasting her mother as we step out and in; tasting and eating and smacking her fat glazed lips like a goddess drunk with craving and pungent with entitlement. rich and full and sticky she glides and sucks sloppy with thirst the receptive trunk of her massive tree; a hard muscle ready to strain herself at the root for me.

#newblogs #writers #writing #poetry #aceflux #omni #wetwetpussy