Abella of the Beast

difficult

svndara

Crushed silvers

I’ve smoked 120 cigarettes since you left. I notice the effect it’s having on my lungs but it’s easier to cough than choke up with an anxiety attack thinking of another with their hands inside you. For those five minutes I’m self medicating trying to inscenerate every kiss you gave me. Every breath stolen from you I want to reclaim. I pray to 20 white nuns in a black chapel. Each nun hears my soft whimpers until I use her up and toss her aside. Like you did me.

kissing-beehives

“But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o’clock in the morning.”

— Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. (via vulturehooligan)

Right now

(via flowerfingers)

kissing-beehives

“To love a swamp, however, is to love what is muted and marginal, what exists in the shadows, what shoulders its way out of mud and scurries along the damp edges of what is most commonly praised. And sometimes its invisibility is a blessing. Swamps and bogs are places of transition and wild growth, breeding grounds, experimental labs where organisms and ideas have the luxury of being out of the spotlight, where the imagination can mutate and mate, send tendrils into and out of the water.”

—

Barbara Hurd, from Stirring the Mud: On Swamps, Bogs, and Human Imagination (Beacon Press, 2001)

Via A Poet Reflects

(via jqd-hcx)

kissing-beehives

“The worst part about anything that’s self destructive is that it’s so intimate. You become so close with your addictions and illnesses that leaving them behind is like killing the part of yourself that taught you how to survive.”

— Lacey L. (via lazypacific)

kissing-beehives

“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”

— Anne Lamott
(via wordsnquotes)