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“i can’t do this anymore” says a girl who is not only going to do it but do it well

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do it scared do it stupid do it badly whatever it is that's worth doing, that's worth anything at all, we do it. be it scared be it stupid be it badly. the sincerity remains the same.

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There is supposed to be a place where no one can reach you. Traditionally, the home, but now we settle for the ocean, the airplane, the summit of a mountain, the middle of a lake, the shower, the womb, the grave

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fawzul himaya hareed (@milodrama) reimagining shame, on writing and being seen (link to substack) \\ @allsadnshit \\ alyse leah angélique des francs on lirr train \\ sam sax xenotransplantation (via @cloudswamp) \\ liana finck

kofi

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you ever feel like you were born with something rotten inside you and if people get close enough they’re gonna find out

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i just want my life to revolve around love and art and passion and making others feel safe and secure and just enjoy living as a whole and i don't think that's too much to ask for tbh

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men’s domestic helplessness is not cute or charming pls raise your sons to know how to cook a vegetable and wash their dirty sock i’m begging 

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Maybe it’s better to have the terrible times first. I don’t know. Maybe then, you can have, if you live, a better life, a real life, because you had to fight so hard to get it away⸺you know?⸺from the mad dog who held it in his teeth. But then your life has all those tooth marks, too, all those tatters and all that blood.

James Baldwin  This morning, this evening, so soon  

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(shortened)

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Kate Baer, from And Yet: Poems; “Idea”

[Text ID: “I will enjoy this life. I will open it like a peach in season, suck the juice from every finger, run my tongue over my chin. I will not worry about clichés or uninvited guests peering in my windows. I will love and be loved. Save and be saved a thousand times. I will let the want into my body, bless the heat under my skin. My life, I will not waste it. I will enjoy this life.”]

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i was so fucking sad when i was 14 and now when i fold my laundry or see a pool of moonlight on the floor of my bedroom i know that miracles exist. i see love in everything. love sees everything in me too

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“I’d like to retire there and do nothing, or nothing much, forever, in two bare rooms: look through binoculars, read boring books, old, long, long books, and write down useless notes, talk to myself, and, foggy days, watch the droplets slipping, heavy with light.”

— Elizabeth Bishop, “The End of March,” from The Complete Poems, 1927-1979 (via bostonpoetryslam)

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“Opera has the power to warn you that you have wasted your life. You haven't acted on your desires. You've suffered a stunted, vicarious existence. You've silenced your passions. The volume, height, depth, lushness, and excess of operatic utterance reveal, by contrast, how small your gestures have been until now, how impoverished your physicality; you have only used a fraction of your bodily endowment, and your throat is closed.”

— Wayne Koestenbaum, The Queen’s Throat: Opera, Homosexuality, and the Mystery of Desire.

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Introduction to The Iliad, Emily Wilson