the River of forgetfulness

“She loved any library, big or little;

there was something about all that knowledge,

all those facts waiting patiently to be found that never failed to give her a shiver.”

— D. Duane

“he’s stalking you”

“he found your address”

“he breaks into your room at night”

“he talks about kidnapping you and forcing you to love him”

                              I know!!

isn’t it romantic??

Sometimes I can hear my bones

straining under the weight of all

the lives I’m not living.

Jonathan Safran Foer 

It feels so quiet today.

Silence.

Not this silence that isolates your brain and offers you peace.

A wird silence.

A feeling of Death.

Breathing stops.

Feelings stop.

Paralysed.

There is no one there.

A suffocating feeling.

Like watching yourself fading away, disappearing but there is nothing to do to stop it.

You can scream and shout.

But silence is stronger.

Silence can cover even the strongest screams sometimes.

"July 28.

I am more and more unable to think, to observe, to determine the truth of things, to remember, to speak, to share an experience; I am turning to stone, this is the truth. "

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟸𝟾, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺 

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

Dear watchers in the shadows,

dear thick-thighed fiends. At ease,

please. Tell the hounds who undress

me with their eyes — I have nothing

to hide. I will spread myself

wide. Here, a flash of muscle. Here,

some blood in the hunt.Now the center

of the world: my incandescent cunt.

~Safiya Sinclair

PERSEPHONE:

[...] I cannot give you the world above,

I cannot light up the shadows.

I don’t want to be the only receptacle of life in the midst of death.

I am rotting like the others, you know.

~P. A

“A cemetery surrounds the lake,

the graves can be clearly discerned,

the earth opens up above the graves,

and for a moment the dead daughters stand with blowing hair,

their faces remain indistinct,

their hair falls down below their hands, each woman is raising her right hand,

which can be easily seen in the white light,

they spread their waxen fingers,

the rings are missing, the ring fingers are missing on every hand.”

~I. Bachmann 

A kiss on the forehead — erases misery.

I kiss your forehead.

A kiss on the eyes — lifts sleeplessness.

I kiss your eyes.

A kiss on the lips — is a drink of water.

I kiss your lips.

A kiss on the forehead — erases memory. 

M.Tsvetaeva   

“He wanted to paint her body beautiful shades of pinks, blues and purples….

He wanted to stand back admiring his work long after.

Every inch of her his canvas, the strength of his hands and belt his brush…”

R.D.S