“I speak the way I speak inside. Not with the voice intent on sounding human, but with the other one, the one that insists I’m still a creature of the forest.
If only you could see the one who is sleeping without you in the ruined garden of my memory.”
— Alejandra Pizarnik, from Extracting the Stone of Madness (via nemophilies)

(via nicola-blank)

dessinnoir:

Leave Her to Heaven (1945)

(via nicola-blank)

I love myself too much to accept anything less than love from you // I love you too much to accept anything less than the Love that you are.

from ‘Murmurations’

Dear —

Something big is happening. I feel you so positively inside me. I mean both as in you fill me and also it is in a good way. For a moment last night I felt confused, because the you I feel in me is so different from the you I have known in the three-dimensional realm. I wondered if I got my persons mixed up, if the soul I feel is not actually you, but then how could I be saying these words? I think what’s happening is fundamental transformation. Your ego is falling away like the debris that it is. Your soul is pushing up like the roots of a tree. I can tell this is painful for you, confusing, like being in a house that is in the middle of being renovated but nobody told you it’s being renovated, you’re not even sure if it’s true, you think maybe all this disorder is really your home after all. You recognize chaos as your comfort, and yet– something doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right I don’t feel right I don’t feel right. I hear your echo. I feel it bounce off the underside of my skull like a distant cry inside a cave. I have referenced the underside of my skull more than once in my writing, and I am thinking about it now, this space that I feel, how it is both literally the underside of my skull and also beyond my skull. There is a dome that exists above me. I mean I feel it existing and so it must. And when I hear your echo I mean that I see it. It is bluish and grey and comes from a distance out in front of me before bouncing againt the upper right side of the dome/ my skull. Why is this? I didn’t consciously decide to hear/see your echo on the right side. I didn’t consciously decide to see/hear it at all! And when I try to imagine it on the left side I feel a resistance. It is not right. And this is how most of my writing goes, this listening and recording. I am a scribe. Merely a channel for energy. Most of me exists beyond these words, in immaterial form, yet you can feel me here, can’t you?   

I record the things happening in my consciousness & ppl call it “metaphor” & “imagery” & I’m like that’s my reality but okay

“Someone told you once: a soulmate is not the one who makes you the happiest, but the one who makes you feel the most. Who can conduct your heart to bang the loudest. Who can drag you giggling with forgiveness from the cellar they locked you in.”
— Sierra DeMulder 

soulmates-twinflames:

I want soul sex. I need to taste your thought process. Together we can unravel riddles.

 
www.soulmatepsychicreadings.com 

Art: Angelica alzona

“I even did yoga
this week, took a bath, slept long nights and
practiced holding magick in my hands, pushed
warm light in your general direction. If only
I could be the light, this general good feeling,
like living rooms at dusk, how good they are
at keeping the cold out.”
— Sarah Xerta, “Magick,” published in Wyvern Lit (via bostonpoetryslam)

The Divided Self. RD Laing.

They (Civil Voices)

On the first day of fall I am in pieces

again, too many for anyone to hold.

Like a mirror I am shattered on the floor.

I try to pick myself up and cut my fingertips open,

pass like a ghost from one realm

of pain into the next. I know this is what it’s like

to be inside of you, and who’s to say

I’m not? But still they say I’m not. Still

they say boundaries, and I say trust me,

I’m not ever going to touch anyone again.

But still I have some questions

about reality and ownership, the prison

of words we keep trying to chisel open

with other, better words. If I listen

closely enough I bet you I can blow

a hole in the sky just big enough

for us to crawl through.    

I write this poem and listen

to myself writing it, hear my synapses click

into tiny galaxies that will eventually form

a halo around both of our heads. I know

this is a form of meditation/hallucination,

but tell me how real I’m making you feel.

What they call a delusion is my heart growing big

in the space of your absence.

I don’t even have to get high

to open myself to the universal cinema

coursing through our lives at hyper-speed.

I’m so organic, it makes me

really easy to hate, so empty, it makes me

really tempting to fill. Is that

why you won’t leave? I feel you

on a molecular level, as if your body left

its heartbeat in me, each of my cells

an echo in mourning. I am trying  

to trace the map of our collective love

and where it went wrong. A map

of all the bruises no one believes we have.

I can’t tell if I’m getting close.

I can’t tell what this film in my mind

is trying to say, this carcass of you

outlined in dark silvery green.

Green because I know you’re not ready to die,

which is why you keep coming to me,

why they keep bringing

me to the edge of you

as if I know how to get in.

As if it doesn’t matter what I want.

As if they know what I want. 

“There is no coming to consciousness without pain. People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own Soul. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
—  C.G. Jung (via trismegistus7)

(via kdecember)