c-asusbelli

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march 31 (iii)

can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t

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march 31 (ii)

break [ ] down

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march 31

running at a million miles an hour and i haven’t done any work all day

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The mouth cannot forget the story of the fingers.

Ruth Stone, from “Poetry” in What Love Comes To (via pigmenting)

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You gay?

We are a website.

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march 18

uma mulher

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In French, we don’t say “ninety nine”, we say “quatre vingt dix neuf” which roughly translates to “I’ve never heard of a functional numeric system before” and I think that’s beautiful

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march 17 (ii)

shaking

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march 17

(in a) pit (in my stomach)

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march 13

it comes in waves

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Honeydew and balm. Roads tar-black, rolling in front of us, waves and waves of heat & mist. The sun, gold pouring across the plains. Sky an open palm, swallowing, cradling. Every night was wind, bonfire, looking into each other’s faces. No mirrors but a million reflections. I remember the night we thought we would die – lightning exploding in front of our faces, the rain luminescent, endless, everything cowered and small. In the afternoon, a boy stabbed a snake. The next day, we found a bloated frog in the pool. Every morning, the mosquitos loved us ferociously, kissed splotches into our brown skin. Cracks of light in the wet grass. The mountains bigger than our gods.

Magaliesberg Mountains, Yasmin Belkhyr (via wildflowerveins)

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march 12 (ii)

miss you.

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march 12

this cannot be

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march 11

empty

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*accidentally starts crying*