jeonaswa

[jeonaswa]

My hands love you more

than me, wanting only to feed you and feed you.

Tonight I outrank them

but wisely you have prepared for famine.

Kaveh Akbar, "Portrait of the Alcoholic with Craving"

[jeonaswa]

הבל | hevel

This is how it goes: God whispers in Cain’s jealous ear, drawing his attention to the Sin crouched at his doorway. Sin has haunted eyes and a mouth that has been kissed. Let there be no doubt that Sin has been kissed, with a wet-red mouth that may taste of blood or pomegranate or the electric crackle of a stoplight. Cain looks at Sin. He runs his tongue over his teeth.

This is how it goes: Cain leaves the house at one am in bare feet and a hoodie, careful to avoid the last stair that creaks, and treks out into the Field. There are many fields in the world but there is only one Field. Cain feels the difference in the grass when he crosses the border from field to Field, the way the grey-green blades stand up at attention in his wake, the way the dirt turns ice-cold and furious beneath his heels. The earth is good with foreshadowing. The tree of Knowledge has deep roots.

This is how it goes: God says, I will take you or your brother.

God says, You get to choose.

And Cain says, “When you split me and my brother in the womb, you did not divide us evenly. He got kindness, and I got longing. He got complacence, and I got ambition. I want to kill him sometimes. I think sometimes he wants to die.”

I have never made brothers before, God explains. That is how I thought they were made. What more do you want?

“I want to steal some of his kindness,” Cain says, and shakes his pocket knife out of his sleeve.

Back at home, Abel sits up in his bed with a start, heart racing. That was close, he thinks, that was a damn close one, and does not know why.

In the Field, the ground warms as blood seeps into the dirt. 

[jeonaswa]

I saw you there by the side of the road. You alive and, until I arrived, alone. I know I am bound to the ritual world—in my dreams I teach myself how to swallow a sword and I stack the stones until they make a cairn. We see the shape but it’s more difficult to describe the form. What of your last breath, is it now a bird? Once I was a feather floating toward the Rhône. Then I came to and there you were. Had I been spared or given back to myself? I hold the feeling of your body so near to life in the lines of my palms. Before I died from an egg I was born. Now I am witnessing a mysterious thing transform.

Lara Mimosa Montes, "The Cairn"

[jeonaswa]

Andrea Gibson, Birthday

[jeonaswa]

musings on the sun

christina perneta, noor hindi, vincent van gogh, jeanette winterson, zinaida vysota docenko, anne sexton, olga kos, khalil gibran

[jeonaswa]

i am working on The GodKing Rises. i think about renaming it as the Garden Rises/Returns because the Garden/Paradise is the focus.

Rather, the theme is forgiveness.

You can be ostracized from your community, be obsessed with depression, and want to be worse, but you can be helped, too. someone can reach down to pull you out of the hole. someone can forgive you and say, "You deserve to be loved."

i think of emily duncan's supposed "fall from grace." I think of cait corrain. i think of all the others who had broken trust and hearts.

and all i have is love in my heart. i am too old to not forgive.

are we not allowed to make mistakes and try again?

[jeonaswa]

Gold and amethyst necklace, Roman, 1st-2nd century AD

from Timeline Auctions

[jeonaswa]

Then came the blood – so ravishing it made him feel like a god.

Georg Heym, Tales of the German Imagination; from 'The Lunatic', tr. Peter Wortsman

[jeonaswa]

There’s something truly exquisite about stories where the real tragedy is the price you paid to stand on top of the world

[jeonaswa]

“A hiss of gold Blooming out of blackness,”

— Amy Lowell, from Free Fantasia On Japanese Themes in “The Complete Poetical Works Of Amy Lowell” (via adrasteiax)

[jeonaswa]

from the mania speaks by jeanann verlee, published in said the manic to the muse

[Text ID: You think I can’t tame that? I always come home. Always.

Ravenous. Loaded. You know better than anybody:

I’m bigger than God. /End ID]

[jeonaswa]

I thought so many things & never said a single one aloud. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out. Yes, desire is so different when God bore you hungry. I could have devoured anything and still have been starving.

Yves Olade, Belovéd

[jeonaswa]

silence and violence are the same fucking thing.

[jeonaswa]

jeonaswa → healerking

(do people even do this anymore?)

[jeonaswa]

great news! i haven't edited in so long i need to contact support to let me use js. ...

[jeonaswa]

going through a clean through of my likes, fixing some tags.

thinking about rebanding everything to healerking as well...

[jeonaswa]

more stuff about becoming a god being inherently dehumanizing pls