alittlebitxwicked

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Where vulnerability proves its strength

When the noise falls still into silence

Why letting go never meant giving in

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Margaret Atwood, from an interview featured in “Two Solicitudes,” orginally published c. 1998

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Yelawolf for Barber line Magazine

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2018

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“And I began to let him go. Hour by hour. Days into months. It was a physical sensation, like letting out the string of a kite. Except that the string was coming from my center.”

— Augusten Burroughs (via perrfectly)

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I used to think that I could never lose anyone if I photographed them enough. In fact, my pictures show me how much I’ve lost.

Nan Goldin (via purplebuddhaquotes)

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I miss you all the time. Just a baby.

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Land and Sea - progress in using film, slowly but surely.

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You are a slave of what you need in your soul.

Carl Jung (via wordsnquotes)

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Constantly lusting over that which is unattainable. Sitting in the edge of my seat on the chase of pursuit, only to be consistently let down. Why do I torture myself by laying in the flames of desire? Is it that which consumes me, defeats me?

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Life as Blake

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strange relief

The story begins at the black mouth of a cave and ends with a  strange dog at the door.     With chaos.         A hotel in Tucson.  Yellow curtains on the window.           A love letter written as a question:         IF I KISS YOU, WILL YOU SUFFER?         In the jaundiced light of early morning,                Elvis is in the kitchen singing       we can’t go on together,      and Katie laughs in the porcelain tub,     drops her head under bathwater and baptizes herself.    Says: “Salvation is easy. You just have to die a little.” Same with love, mon amour.         Same with anything dazzling and useless.   The blackness beyond the reach of the lightbulb. The yellow flower patterned sheets.              Our stunned faces, pale with strange relief          when we witnessed the unraveling of all things        beautifully brief:           a love that slow dances. Holds hands when it crosses the street.        Remembers to call home.    A love killed every night.     Resurrected every morning. 

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