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Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours

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yes its’s 2020. yes i’m still thinking of Hannibal

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Nikos Kazantzakis, tr. by Kimon Friar, from Modern Greek Poetry; “Nietzsche,”

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yes i hate drawing beards

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narusasu ? chef kiss

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im happier lately :) hello

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Attachment is the great fabricator of illusions; reality can be attained only by someone who is detached. — Simone Weil

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Death is calling me down by the river. With a torn heart, desolate, I listen to that song of purest happiness.

Alejandra Pizarnik, Extracting the Stone of Madness; from ‘The Dream of Death, or The Site of the Poetical Bodies’, tr. Yvette Siegert (via derangedrhythms)

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“In my dream I apologize to everyone I meet. Instead of introducing myself, I apologize for not knowing why I am alive. I am sorry. I am sorry. I apologize. In real life, oddly enough, when I am fully awake and out and about, if I catch someone’s eye, I quickly look away. Perhaps this too is a form of apology.”

— Claudia Rankine, from Don’t Let Me Be Lonely

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i remember my youth in static noise voiceless echos a dialect ghosts understand with the cats we fed for company in shelter of the outside holy, burning we wander the abyss in nervous skin until the day weeping, i forgive you, thank you

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Detail : Spring Scattering Stars, 1927, by Edwin Blashfield.