untilitallgoesdark

[untilitallgoesdark]

On This Night, In This World (Alejandra Pizarnik)

on this night in this world

words of the dream of childhood of death

it’s never what you wish to say

the mother-tongue castrates

the tongue is an organ of knowledge

about the failure of every poem

castrated by its own tongue

which is the organ of re-creation

of re-cognition

but not of resurrection

of the thing as negation,

of my horizon as maldoror with his hound

and there are no promises

in all that is speakable

this is the same as lying

(everything that can be said is a lie)

the rest is silence

only silence doesn’t exist

no

words

do not make love

they make absence

if i said water would i drink?

if i said bread would i eat?

on this night in this world

the extraordinary silence of this night

the thing about the soul is it doesn’t see itself

the thing about the mind is it doesn’t see itself

the thing about the spirit is it doesn’t see itself

where does this conspiracy of invisibilities come from?

not one word is visible

shadows

viscous enclosures concealing

the stone of madness

black passageways

i’ve passed through them all

oh, why not stay with us a little longer!

my person is wounded

my first-person singular

i write as one who raises a knife in the darkness

i write as i speak

absolute sincerity would continue

being the impossible

oh, why not stay with us a little longer!

the breakdown of words

abandoning the palace of language

the knowledge between the legs

what did you do with the gift of sex?

oh, all my dead —

i ate them i choked

I’ve had enough of enough

muffled words

everything slips away

to a black liquefaction

and the hound of maldoror

on this night in this world

where anything is possible

except for

a poem

i speak

knowing it isn’t about that

it’s never about that,

oh, help me write the most dispensable poem

    that can’t even be used

    to be useless

help me write words

on this night in this world

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I don't really know what's in store

but I know where my mind likes to go

when I feel like I think too much

I lay down on my bed, feel the sun through the window

hm...

[untilitallgoesdark]

“This is the year you begin. Slip into the sweet mud. Get dirty. Stay dirty. There is nothing to forgive.”

— Jeremy Radin, from “Pipe Organ Owl Mansion,” Slow Dance with Sasquatch

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Can’t believe it’s taken me this long to watch Blue Exorcist. For some reason I needed this tonight. 

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"Let's howl and spit at the Iowa moon."

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you ever just have a stare at ur drunk reflection in the mirror bc same

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and love is a word used too much and much too soon.

Charles Bukowski, The Night Torn Mad With Footsteps (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

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Shamed people shame people. Long before we are criticizing others, the source of that criticism has been planted, fertilized and grown in our own lives, directed at ourselves, and often in ways we are mostly unaware of.

Curt Thompson

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I’m actually extremely grateful that some things didn’t work out the way I once wanted them to.

Anonymous (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

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I cannot stand small talk, because I feel like there’s an elephant standing in the room shitting all over everything and nobody is saying anything. I’m just dying to say, ‘Hey, do you ever feel like jumping off a bridge?’ or ‘Do you feel an emptiness inside your chest at night that is going to swallow you?’ But you can’t say that at a…party.

Paul Gilmartin, The Mental Illness Happy Hour (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

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every day.

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A Fever Dream (inspired by Everything Everything)

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"...can't sleep when everyone on the internet is far more interesting and far more happy..." These new Gundersen songs have me feelin' some type of way.

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Museum date???? Coffee shop date???? Art gallery date???? Walk in the park date???? Late night walk date???? Nap time date???