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thatsingingpsycho · 9 days
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[...]: Poems, Fady Joudah
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thatsingingpsycho · 10 days
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thatsingingpsycho · 21 days
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heart’s desire, louise glück
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thatsingingpsycho · 26 days
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no it doesn’t bother me at all (eating my own heart out)
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thatsingingpsycho · 28 days
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What do you do if you're in love?
experience it. you feel the love with curiosity and patience for yourself. you'll get some things a little wrong, some things right, but mostly you'll get movement (neither morally good or bad). if you're like me, there will be an unavoidable fear of getting hurt. but you have to keep remembering you have to experience it, no matter the outcome.
learn from it if you can. if you can't, the lesson will come later. take what comes
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thatsingingpsycho · 29 days
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WAIT !! they wont bleed for you like i will
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thatsingingpsycho · 30 days
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Virgin Witch (1971); dir. Ray Austin
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thatsingingpsycho · 30 days
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Peter Handke - The Left-Handed Woman (1978)
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thatsingingpsycho · 30 days
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thatsingingpsycho · 30 days
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thatsingingpsycho · 2 months
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Grief Slut, Evelyn Berry
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thatsingingpsycho · 2 months
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Moya Mawhinney
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thatsingingpsycho · 2 months
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the dreamers (2003)
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thatsingingpsycho · 4 months
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The longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love — whether we call it friendship or family or romance — is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light. Gentle work. Steadfast work. Life-saving work in those moments when life and shame and sorrow occlude our own light from our view, but there is still a clear-eyed loving person to beam it back. In our best moments, we are that person for another.
— Nothing Personal, James Baldwin
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thatsingingpsycho · 4 months
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Getting into Bed on a December Night
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From Indigo, Ellen Bass.
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thatsingingpsycho · 4 months
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When I’m with you there’s nothing that could’ve held me back
I know you‘ll catch me when I’m somehow falling through the cracks
You said I’m pretty sure I’m going to get us killed
I said I don’t mind cause I really wanna feel the thrill
—Rooftop, Fyers
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thatsingingpsycho · 5 months
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In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.
— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
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