have you ever tried to sleep on the opposite side of the bed late at night? upside down, right where your feet should’ve been? but doesn’t it feel odd, with your head resting where your feet should be?
and once you said, “Did you know: as soon as I predict rain, it does not happen; however, as soon as someone else predicts rain, it happens vehemently.” and i could only imagine you as a weatherman wiping your hooves together awkwardly and grinning and spying at the pretty brunette and blushing and hoping to your mother that you won’t drop the thermometer.
two lines are parallel. they have run against each other their whole lives, but have never seen each other. why? because running is quick and sometimes you never stop to catch a blur in your palms, but if you do, it is a trembling, stealthy creature who does not cry at night, but rather sulks in quiet moonbeams and other fragile things that break the light. with light and only light, who would’ve thought of another darkness, a possibility that seems only impossible? or if we rest in darkness, would light be the light others have dreamed of, as good?
this is a parallel you’ve been streaking against. in the rain, as oil to water. in blinking eyes of red when you point your chin upwards to the sun. when you stare ahead of you and not to the left and right, light and darkness are only a concoction of mixed mediums, the gradient variations no tongue could quite dispose of. sincerely.
dearblur makes no sense, but you have, in every sense, and they are grateful.
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I do not reblog things, but this is one of my very favourite gifts that I’ve ever received.
— Henry Miller (from Henry Miller on Writing)
still somehow she wanted me
with skinned knees and the soft
of her shoulders so fine beneath teeth
still somehow she wanted herself to look all
twisted and tawdry as i tore her up, and she
wrung my wiry black burden between her palms
still somehow i wanted her full up and fire-fervent
while she throat-spoke my name and i hard-pressed her
back and arched spine and opened and then shuddered closed
still somehow we wanted
something we could not keep, slipping away
before we could remember it.
