marlena by julie buntin
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my home isn't my home anymore, something's gone wrong along the way
noor hindi dear god. dear bones. dear yellow.: "pledging alliegance" (via @feral-ballad) \\ andrew collins \\ athena nassar, from love is not always song, but the swelling (via @weltenwellen) \\ @holly-warbs \\ yanyi dream of the divided field: poems: "the friend” (via @dactylicreveries) \\ bartosz beda silent interior ii
kofi
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Vocabulary, Safia Elhillo
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THE PLACE YOU MISS DOESN’T EXIST ANYMORE, HOME IS THE FIRST GRAVE.
1. Mateo Manaure, Suelos de mi tierra (1967) | 2. tumblr user @ryebreadgf | 3. Manuel Cabré - Sol en los cerros (1919) | 4. Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch | 5. José Antonio Quintero, Vista del Ávila desde la avenida Sucre hacia la Cota Mil (1977) | 6. Anna Kamienska, A Nest of Quiet: A Notebook | 7. Pedro León Castro, Armonía (1947) | 8. Vardges Petrosyan, “A Shirt Made of Fire” (trans. @metamorphesque) | 9. Próspero Martínez, Paisaje del Ávila —vista desde El Calvario— (c. 1920) | 10. James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room | 11. Jesús María de las Casas, El incendio del Ávila en 1883 —reverso— (c. 1915) | 12. Miriam Adeney | 13. Gabriel Bracho, (detail of) Cota 905 (1956)
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let me go home.
(sources under the cut)
Warsan Shire
Richard Silken
MCR
Fall Out Boy
unknown
@5oil
@27d10
@heavensghost + Car Seat Headrest
@wolfsena
MCR
Car Seat Headrest
@heavensghost
Pencey Prep
Miriam Adeney
Photo I took
Car Seat Headrest
The Japanese Popstars
@asoftwrongness
MCR
Flatsound
@cruelyear
Pheobe Bridgers
a poem from the good daughter to the difficult mother
Lorde
Danzy Senna
Jenny Holzer
Doctor Who
Conversation between myself and my roommate
Doctor Who
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that daughterhood feeling of slipping out of your body, trying on different bones, adjusting the marrow so that your mother might look at you, might love you enough. that daughterhood feeling of being simultaneously five and fifteen and fifty-five. of counting the rings of your spinal column to make sure. of being haunted by the vengeance of every version of you that didn’t make it out of that house alive.
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Benedict Wells, The End Of Loneliness
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“sometimes the home to which we believe we want to return is a home that has never existed.”
-tucker lieberman
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heatwaves and ant season
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a whisper of words i half understand
i listen but i cannot speak
yet as i walk around the town
and the wind drifts into my lungs
i know, in the tip top of my soul
i am home
-k.c.
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