gil, 22. kidult, quasi-hikikomori, incurable introvert. wants to stay at home and draw forever.
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the noise that i kept so quiet, a book.
with curated flock of poems/quotes by charles bukowski, richard siken, virginia woolf, mary oliver, sylvia plath, etc.

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sneak peak of what i’m working on at the mo’. in bloom, partially inspired by nirvana daphne gottlieb’s why things burn, which you should totally check out.

sneak peak of what i’m working on at the mo’. in bloom, partially inspired by nirvana daphne gottlieb’s why things burn, which you should totally check out.

the acrid aftertaste of your loneliness and desolation can keep you warm at night

in the last days of 2012, a poem:

i have worn a slow hole in my bed sheet
in my unrestful sleep

suspicion warms like a siren
a sluggish beast in the belly—
spitting        venom
on every one

they leave
each, and all
like a tide

every
last
one

Posted 1 year ago With 10 notes

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“I see nothing. We may sink and settle on the waves. The sea will drum in my ears. The white petals willbe darkened with sea water. They will float for a moment and then sink. Rolling over the waves will shoulder me under. Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me.”
Virginia Woolf, The Waves


I see nothing. We may sink and settle on the waves.
The sea will drum in my ears. The white petals will
be darkened with sea water. They will float for a
moment and then sink. Rolling over the waves will
shoulder me under. Everything falls in a tremendous
shower, dissolving me.”

Virginia Woolf, The Waves

the sea change

my world is so small
And the outside,
the sea change,
E N C R O A C H E S
upon the shores of me
lapping away at sand and shale,
at shell and sole,
and the sea (“CHANGE,” it calls) swells swift
well S W A L L O W S—

                                              —ho!
old hand and heart.
Such a wavering beat
can only be engulfed
extinguished
beneath the roar
of the wave/of the crowd

CHANGE.
YOU ARE A WILTING RELIC
CLINGING TO AN OLD, ROMANTICISED ART.
YOU NEED A KNIFE,
A SECOND FACE,
AND A FRIEND’S BACK.

this is the way of the world:
you can be a wolf, or a lamb.
you can bang you can buck you can obey or you can

whimper.

Posted 2 years ago With 1 note

leaving nail varnish on for weeks on end is sure to leave you brittle and dry

my hands look strangely honest like this;
humble, bare,
kept short and without polish.
Pale nude nail plates,
translucent and thin,
like cut glass plied
onto a doll’s fingers

they look square
and rustic,
wrinkled at the bends and
knobbly at the knuckles,
bleached of all colour but the
sallow brick beige of my yellowing skin.

thin, bony hands,
crooked at the ring finger,
fickle in its shape:
curve curve
square square curve
curve curve square square curve.

at the tenuous onion skin of my wrists,
and elbows,
dabs of violet vein blue
against the fish white underbelly
of my forearms
soft (like a membrane)
warm (like a pulse)
thin,
like a blade
like a book
like a heart.

Posted 2 years ago With 4 notes