I am a fury, a faerie, a phoenix — a forest of werewolves and wendigos that will carve out your chest so that the next time I paint my pretty pink lips I will taste the copper tang of your dying breaths.
unpleasant
Pink Floyd – Wish You Were Here

Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here

We are all full of ghosts, people and cities we no longer visit but within whom we felt incredibly alive, and there is no reason to pretend they never existed. I wish I could hold those ghosts closer even, telling them that I forgive them for any indiscretion I may have at one point tried to scrub away with a ball of steel wool. Because trying to erase someone completely only makes their presence in your life more pointed — they are an intruder, they are violating your emotional restraining order and reminding you you cannot escape them.
Chelsea Fagan, How Do You Move On?

Yin & Yang - by MAASO

Still tired. More tired. Tireder, tiredest, tired ad nauseam, tired infinitum.
Christopher Knight + 
I take myself out to dinner and do not look at my phone once. I do not call a friend up and ask them to join me. I listen attentively to the conversation in my head. I walk with myself to the library. Read novels, magazines, dusty collections of poetry. Browse zines online and buy a stack of ones that catch my interest. I close my eyes in bed and put my hands in-between my thighs. Know when to go faster, when to slow down, when to speed it up. I moan without shame. I make myself coffee, sip it languorously on my balcony, let my bare shoulders be warmed by the sun and ignore my neighbor’s sideways looks. I put on lipstick on the days I am not leaving the house. Walk around confidently, wearing only underwear and carelessness. Shake my limbs to the busting beat of a song and do not worry about my arms going one way and my legs another. I bite down hard on “monogamy.” Swish it around in my mouth, run my tongue over its bumps and curves, and then spit it out. I bleed on scraps of paper. Let my thoughts out. Listen to them more intently than any person could. I see all parts of me and do not blush. I do not look away. I do not try to run. I stare deeper. Force myself to keep eye contact. Accept all that is inside of me. Make my apologies. I bend my hands in forgiveness. I rise, dripping in the blood of past and future guilt and say, it is okay. All of you. All of me. It is okay.
In A Committed Relationship With Myself | Lora Mathis
Elektrik People – Make Me A Bird

"She said, make me a bird, I’ll fly away
Beyond the confines of the sick, sick game
I said, make me a bird, and I’ll fly too
Don’t care where, just me and you”

me at age 12:ew older men
now:wow he's only 30?