singinginserein

[singinginserein]

safiya sinclair the art of unselfing

kofi

[singinginserein]

A room in my heart

Sit still

Very still.

A ramble tumbles out, almost eloquent

It's a rusty symphony of charters

Some almost rules, almost absolutions

From the sins of childhood

They're still purging.

You're my allegories that run wild,

You're a meditation that comes alive.

Do I love you with a blinding pagan prayer of my heart?

I pray I do, and yet I pray I do not.

#my lover is a day

[singinginserein]

God, but there are moments when at my very core, i want to cut that umbilical cord again. and again. and again.

[singinginserein]

— Ilya Kaminsky, Deaf Republic

[singinginserein]

where are the answers

why do you not document your dreams anymore?

there come s a pause before you perish

a moment before you swallow the universe whole

a recollectionm of vivid dreams

what will you do then? what will you watch then?

a half torn film

from the 1930s?

a half-eaten morse code that does not entirely spell out?

a vinyl that scratches,

more than it burns?

or an orchestra

of celestial melodies?

do you not want to find out

with every brush of the breeze

sighting of the crescent

eyelid dances

who you were , in your past  births?

[singinginserein]

High decibel levels mark their scent

Internal masturbations and monologues heighten

Like caged animals stitched again

Contained till the last seam

Vying for freedom

What is it?

What brings it forth?

Freedom fucking freedom

A weightless world

With no pains

pauses or sighs

Sprinting your way

Through Demonic urges

Recipient of virtues untold

Battalion of vices which unfold

But when you’re surrounded

By blinding lights that get a little brighter

Till they scream,

Cause cacophonous commotions

Pulsate with deathly life

Embrace Me; and

Let it mark,

the very end

of your godless world.

[singinginserein]

— august, tathève simonyan

[text ID: promises made by june / had rotten / by the time august came. / i’ve mistaken silence with nothingness / and unlearning it asks for courage / i know not how to muster. / this half-empty glass of orange juice, / ever-present on its throne of dust, / on this wooden table, / holds more promise than i ever will. / i, a personified you, for this is not a wall but a mirror / [personified] / i, i mean you, i mean [redacted] / you eat the sun and with your burnt tongue / try to sing songs / not about pain. / don’t you? / in july / [i] you tried to stretch the rare / moments of happiness but our feet / always seemed to stay out of the / blanket / uncovered. / how do i love something without / fully succumbing to it? / you thought you had to die for you to live, didn’t you? / you thought there’s always a spring after a winter / you didn’t think that / this vivaldian symphony hadn’t been written for bodies like ours, . did you? / in july / you didn’t know that loneliness is a crowded town / yet /  it’s always been bestowed upon you / to lock the gates / and turn off the lights / every night, / did you? / june made promises it knew it couldn’t keep. / but i shall be wiser / in august.]

[singinginserein]

A stitch in nine, saves time.

[singinginserein]

The makings of your mind fascinate me. The way it is, fascinates me. I want to know how you do everyday. I want to know how you do the littlest things. I want to know you better than all else. I want to stake claim to parts of you, you didn’t even know existed. I want to know you better than you know yourself. With you, I always want more. I want you even when I have you. With you, I never stop.

#Spotify

[singinginserein]

[singinginserein]

Catharsis. /kəˈθɑːsɪs/

Catherine, my family has lived here in Bellenac for over a thousand years. Somehow here, the years seem to shrink. I find myself thinking in generations, in centuries. 

Eye of the Devil (1966) dir. J. Lee Thompson

#Deborah Kerr #Eye of the Devil #1966 #David Niven

[singinginserein]

thierry mugler, fw 1984. may he rest in peace.

[singinginserein]

Some days feel like I can barter my faith,

So I am summoned before anyone else.

[singinginserein]

Everyone is dead - A dream

The dead bodies keep piling up.

Every door I knock on,

A familiar odour greets me.

I caress them all,

They’re mine.

I want to decorate them with fondant flowers.

Cover them in lace and muslin.

Fragrant.

I imagine my nerves,

They want outside of me.

[singinginserein]

Unfortunate...

they will say.

A freak accident, 

they will call it.

A comic-tragedy,

A fitting end to a theatric girl

“She did try to bring the circus with herself, every time”

although, why! A life has been wasted..

oh surely it must have started out as a whim.

and it was, it was a whim.

“so sad, so so sad.”

‘she had so much potential.;

“all the poor thing wanted,

was to cartwheel.”

they will say.

#cart-wheeeeee

[singinginserein]

Store bought flames make you see ash

I gulp fireballs in a frenzy

The inferno does not touch me,

How jinxed doe you have to be

to wake up every morning

just to watch suns spar

and clouds turn to fumes of chaos?

With stealthy steps,

Grief drips,

while mania holds a steely grip.

This is my opera, 

and I Orchestrate its orgasm.

Acts of vanity engulf a hellfire pyre

and Iblis awaits his turn.

A crescendoing high

On a crimson crescent.

Screaming in serein.

That is how we will remember it.

[singinginserein]

ज्वालामुखी|