#mendiga

[sarcasmofrases1]

El amor nace

[lainutilidaddelapoesia]

Mendiga voz - Alejandra Pizarnik (en "Los trabajos y las noches" 1965)

[sentidoysensibilidad]

¿𝐸𝑠 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑟 𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑎?

¡Debes ponerle fin a esto! Necesitas despertar, entender que no puedes seguir arrastrando tu dignidad. Lo siento si te hablo fuerte, pero a veces idealizamos a alguien y no vemos la realidad: el amor nunca se mendiga.

No se suplica tiempo ni cariño, el amor no es humillación. Ya has llorado, gritado, y te has olvidado de ti misma. Estás desperdiciando tus mejores años. Tienes prohibido volver con alguien que solo busca controlarte y disfruta de verte rogar. Un hombre que te ama no te hace sufrir.

Es hora de reaccionar, de dejar de sufrir por alguien que no vale la pena. La vida es demasiado corta y hermosa para no disfrutarla. Queremos verte sonreír de nuevo. ¿Es amor o dependencia?

[notimeforgrownups]

@captainfcnix talk ; wait ,  what did i say ?

Depois de andar quase a tarde inteira pela avenida, a fome bateu em peter e rapidamente ele se viu na famosa confeitaria da vovó! Obviamente, em qual mais poderia ser? Aquele estabelecimento tinha todas as suas guloseimas favoritas e sobremesas deliciosas. Ali era o lugar preferido de peter depois de um dia ruim ou alguma coisa que aconteceu que o deixou pra baixo, mas isso ele nunca admitia nem pra ele mesmo ou para alguém. Ele ficou tão concentrado na vitrine de doces que nem percebeu a outra garota ali do seu lado que também estava na fila, ele ouviu ela falar com ele no entanto ele não prestou atenção em nada do que ela falou e apenas depois de alguns longos segundos ele virou a cabeça e olhou para a garota. "Ah, o que?" Comentou, confuso. Enquanto piscava como uma coruja enquanto coçava a nuca nervosamente, nem ele sabia o que ela falou já que estava muito concentrado nos doces. "Eu não ouvi nada do que você falou. Mas, enfim... Quer alguma coisa? Eu pago." Sugeriu, sorrindo para a garota enquanto botava sua mão nos bolsos e sua atenção foi para a vitrine de doces novamente, nem prestando muita atenção nela de fato ou percebendo quem era ela já que estava mais focado nos doces e em sua fome.

[translucent-serendipity]

Ayer volvió a pasar. Hoy vuelve a pasar. Cada día sigue pasando. Cada día procuran someternos a su violencia.

El siguiente video es literalmente un desahucio que ejecutaron ayer y otro triple que han ejecutado hoy, sin salir de la comarca.

» Enlace al post original, pq subir vídeos a tumblr es siempre una epopeya.

El dato algunas ya lo conoceréis, pero en catalunya, solo el primer trimestre de 2022, se ejecutaron más de 2.400 desahucios. Esto son casi 10.000 desahucios anuales, repito SOLO en catalunya. La media quedó en un desahucio cada 55 minutos.

https://beteve.cat/economia/catalunya-lidera-ranquing-desnonaments-gener-marc-2022/

Estas cifras de la vergüenza, enmascaran decenas de miles de personas que son expulsadas y quedan en situaciones de extrema vulnerabilidad, aisladas y sin acceso a una vida digna.

Comparto un fragmento del comunicado de Obra Social Cataluña de ahora hace un mes:

[Nota personal] Con toda la mierda de los meses de campaña electoral inevitablemente se me han removido cosas, cuestiones sobre mí misma, sobre gente que conozco y sobre colectivos en los cuales participo o no... Pero la realidad material de la gente sigue siendo la misma: gobierne quién gobierne, ganara quien ganara las elecciones el pasado domingo, mañana tendremos que volver a poner el cuerpo ante la brimo para que no tiren personas en la calle.

[haruosaki]

[nima-words]

«Me has roto el corazón, así que tú,

tú,

tú

tienes que repararlo», decía.

Y así siempre recibía dos golpes: uno sobre el amor y otro sobre la herida.

Sara Búho

[sweethorizon-stories]

Nikolette ¿Hay algo que te guste de Hakuryuu?

​

― Me gusta que se sonroje. No estoy acostumbrada a ver chicos que sean capaces de convertir sus rostros en un brillante color rojo ― Comúnmente los chicos con los que se topaba, eran muchas cosas menos avergonzados.― ¡Es lo más divertido que he visto! Incluso, es un juego personal ver con que cosas se apena, a veces hasta lo mas simple, lo pone rojo ― Bromeó.  

@xshoujiki

[mikrokosmcs]

Dios  que  genio  es,  se  besa  el  cerebro  siempre  mhwa

[longaoi]

No he visto la mendiga película y ya empareje a estos dos, aiuda :|

En sus versiones humanas por que me dio la gana

Use la plantilla de https://tumblr.com/semisolidmind por que tranquilamente podrían ser ellos

[rainroses45]

Shattered Glass

☾description: Miguel and you get into an argument which leads you to see a not so pretty side of him

☾a/n: currently for other stuff for him and i just wrote this quickly at night NOT EDITED

☾song inspiration: love in the dark by adele

☾warnings: knife, angst, mentions of blood and puke, kinda yandere

His reflection glanced back at you like raindrops falling down a transparent mirror. Everywhere you turned, his red eyes laid there, following you as you tried to escape his harsh gaze.

Upon the shatter glass, laid the crumble flowers of mother earth, and what appeared to be her salty tears mourning the once’s gifted life. A pink tag ripped in half held two cursive names, one from and the other one to - both sharing a last name by choice, it was never by chance.

“Don’t you see I’m trying Y/n?!” His words ran across the once quiet room, scurrying towards the tippy top of the room searching for space in the already cramped atmosphere of tension.

“No.” You began once more, “No, Miguel - I don’t see, I don’t hear, and I mostly certainly to not feel like you are trying to change!”

“Vieja mendiga me estás cayendo tan mal!” Miguel gritted his teeth as he looked up from the celling then back to you. “That’s because you are too caught in your own selfishness, that you can’t lend a second of your precious time to witness anything other than yourself!” He pointed at you screaming again.

The clock had grown tired of hearing the same words being repeated, that its eyes only rolled back and forth in annoyance. Time had no place in this moment, and even if it did, what’s to stop you both from going all night?

It had been a simple disagreement at first. Miguel desperately yearned to have a child as soon as possible, while you wanted to wait a little longer for the violent, recurring missions to settle down. He wanted one now. You wanted to wait. The rest was history, which caused serval other topics to sprout from that one misplaced weed.

“Oh really?” You placed your hands on your hip, as you leaned forward. Your eyebrows shot up shocked at the words being thrown at you. “Says the man who’s never home!”

Miguel scoffs at your comment, crossing his arms and looking away from your furious gaze. “How do you want to raise this child Miguel?! Hm? Together, or do you just want me to play both roles as you go live in your office for the rest of our child’s li-”

“Enough!” He bellowed as both of his hands gripped his head. His palms covering his ears, in a desperate attempt to sound you out.

“No! No me voy a callar!” You stomped your foot down, shattering more glass, allowing your determined eyes to haunt every angle of your husband’s eyesight.

A silence began to sew its way into the air, making it appear as if all the wounds created were now stitched up to perfection.

Slowly you walked over the glass, and reached out to touch Miguel’s shoulder. A deep sigh escaped you in your tired state, even with this heavy burden of being a superhero, nothing could be harder than staying angry at someone who could die tomorrow.

“Miguel I’m sorry-“ Before you could finish, a blunt force pushed you to the wall, causing the chattery clock to fall down to your feet. It’s arrows spiraled down to the floor as it took one last bow.

“I said enough.” He whispered as his hand grabbed your jaw in place. A look of terror washed over you in gigantic amounts. His claws tug into your bruised cheek, leaving trickles of red to issue out of your veins, in a lagoon filled of bloody roses. So soft, so smooth, so very horrid, yet it blended in with his soul. The eyes always reflect back what’s in the soul.

You froze underneath his touch. A touch you once craved for warmth became the one that caused you whimper from the coldness brushing against your open wounds. Your husband, your Miguel, was now doing something he vowed never to do, and you just hung there - frozen as the memories of all the times he blemished you with his love brushed against your bruised heart in heavy blows.

It was not until you felt heavier in his arms that Miguel realized just what he had done. Quickly he removed his hands from your neck and took serval steps back. The scene in front of him made his stomach turn in so much disgust, he ran towards the apartment window to puke.

You groggy stood up as you held the wall behind you for support. The broken pieces were pushed away with your foot as you grabbed a knife from the kitchen. You didn’t want to hurt him, but he left you no choice - it was either be killed or let him suffer with a knife in the back.

Slowly, you take a peek inside the living room, only to find Miguel already slouched across the window wiping his mouth as tears flood his view. You began to walk back, but without being aware of your surroundings you accidentally crushed a piece of the clock, alerting Miguel to your presence.

“Amor?” He called out unsure if he heard you, or if his senses miss interpreted the noises inside his mind. You quickly hid behind a wall holding the knife towards you. You lowered your mask, allowing the blood to stain its once clean texture.

“Mi vida was that you?” He called out once again, “Please come out. I’m sorry.” With those words, your fear soon transformed into anger - boiling, hot hatred fueled by anger. The audacity he has to try and patch up the damage he has done with meaningless words!

“Lárgate Miguel,” you responded back, still hidden behind the wall. “Lárgate de mi vida!” You yelled out more determined than before.

“What?” He asked softly, still not being able to believe what he was hearing.

“You heard me Miguel.” Your voice surprising didn’t crack as you gripped the knife tighter.

His footsteps became louder as he made his way towards you, without hesitation you climbed to the corner of the celling in a defensive pose.

“Mi vida-“ He turned around believing you were still hiding behind the wall. “Where are you cariño?” Miguel spun around trying to see if you were in the kitchen.

“Ya no te quiero ver Miguel, por favor vete!” You wanted to cry, beg him to leave so you could continue on life without him, but Miguel never could listen. He was too stubborn to open his ears, this was also a component that was added to the argument.

“No amor por favor no digas eso por favor!” He began to beg to the hallway, unsure of where you were. “Perdóname, perdóname mi vida. No puedes dejarme solo, no puedo vivir sin ti amor. No puedo respirar, no puedo comer, no puedo dormir sin tener tu amor conmigo en mi corazón.” Miguel pleaded to the air as our - your tiny apartment echoed back his cries.

“Please Miguel, for me, for us…please leave, I can’t love you anymore.” Tear fled down your face, irritating your cuts, but it was minor compared to the pain in your chest.

Without another word, Miguel turned around to face the corner your currently were being held from.

“I knew you were there princesa,” You look at him in horror as he merely smirks back in fondness. “Pero no quiera decir nada because I didn’t want to scare you. But if you don’t love me anymore, I guess you leave me no choice then.” His movements were swift and precise. Your mask was ripped off of your face leaving your blood shot eyes matching his sinister red ones.

You were a fool to think a silly kitchen knife would protect you against the monstrosity of a husband. Miguel plucked it out of your hands, and before you could escape his grasp a familiar feeling hit you. His teeth tug into you, and before you could kick him off a feeling of numbness overtook your body.

The feeling of defeat never felt better seeing as he won nothing but false hope and life filled with grief. It didn’t matter in the end on how it ended, you will have the last laugh - it was canon.

I need to stop writing sad stuff…welp anywho I tried

[bugmort]

₊ ⊹ 𑁥 ࣪ ◌ ☣︎ ♰ ☣︎ ೇ⊹₊

El viento muere en mi herida.

La noche mendiga mi sangre.

[translucent-serendipity]

Ahir va tornar a passar. Avui torna a passar. Cada dia continua passant. Cada dia procuren sotmetre'ns a la seva violència.

El següent vídeo és literalment d'un desnonament ahir i d'un altre tripe avui, sense sortir de la comarca.

La dada algunes ja la sabreu, però a catalunya, només el primer trimestre de 2022, es van executar més de 2.400 desnonaments. Això són gairebé 10.000 desnonaments anuals, repeteixo NOMÉS a catalunya. La mitjana va quedar en un desnonament cada 55 minuts.

https://beteve.cat/economia/catalunya-lidera-ranquing-desnonaments-gener-marc-2022/

Aquestes xifres de la vergonya, emmascaren desenes de milers de persones que són expulsades i queden en situacions d'extrema vulnerabilitat, aïllades i sense accés a una vida digna.

Comparteixo un fragment del comunicat d'Obra Social Catalunya d'ara fa un mes:

[Nota personal] Amb tota la merda dels mesos de campanya electoral inevitablement se m'han remogut coses, qüestions sobre mi mateixa, sobre gent que conec i sobre col·lectius dels quals participo o no... Però la realitat material de la gent continua sent la mateixa: governi qui governi, guanyés qui guanyés les eleccions el passat diumenge, demà haurem de tornar a posar el cos davant la brimo perquè no llencin persones al carrer.

[beingstorm]

“Y yo te seguiría bajo cualquier forma, como polvo o humo o viento. Entraría por tu respiración, por tu sonrisa, por tus tristes deseos de evadirte hacia donde no haya lenguaje sino solamente ojos devorándose, ojos amándose en el peligro de una desnudez absoluta.

La que miraba el mar en noches viejas. Recuerdos de infancia: muros, detonaciones, gritos. El aire es un campo de concentración para una niña minúscula que baila sobre el filo de un cuchillo. Las risas ajenas son un obstáculo. Los veranos también. (…)

Y tú me viste llegar, mendiga hedionda enamorada de su sombrero con flores y plumas. Había un color lila que humeaba y yo estaba de verde dentro de mis harapos. Dancé para que te rieras. Me pinté las uñas de azul. Toqué la guitarra y canté canciones que hablan de pequeños instantes únicos en los que el dolor se aduerme y hay sólo deseos de amar”.

- Alejandra Pizarnik | Fragmento de sus “Diarios”, fechado en 1962

Falleció en Buenos Aires el 25 de septiembre de 1972

Nota: Cuando leemos los “Diarios” de Alejandra Pizarnik lo primero que nos llama la atención es que los concibiera para su uso personal. Porque, al pasar sus páginas, sentimos estar ante una novela experimental de gran belleza que ofrece un sentido literario completo. De hecho, ya desde muy joven muestra allí una intensidad y un talento que muchos autores desearían en sus años de madurez. Por eso leer estos “Diarios” no es solo asomarnos a las costumbres, pesadillas, complejos y amores de Alejandra: es encontrarnos con alta literatura. El fragmento que aquí incluimos, bellísimo, que firmó con 26 años, es uno de nuestros favoritos.

📷 Alejandra Pizarnik retratada por Anatole Saderman

Recuperado de: Revista Hermeneuta

[rinconliterario]

El viento muere en mi herida. La noche mendiga mi sangre.

Alejandra Pizarnik.

[yungbeefmelodijo]

El amor no se mendiga