1. withaword:

    words steeped in
    history and blood
    fall from your
    lips and cross
    your tongue as
    if they are
    the holiest hymn

    colder than iron
    and hotter than
    a flame.

    Reblogged from: withaword
  2. Thank you for your follow!

    -Also, looking forward to seeing more of your work! 

  3. Hi! :) Thank you for your kind words!  

    Your writing is also pretty amazing! I love your recent poem on language, and now unnecessary it is despite our dependence on it. I enjoy reading that sort of stuff and it was very beautifully written!

    >.<

  4. therosesign:

    If I wrote with a pen
    Of a newly born child
    Would it be nothingness
    Carved into words?

    Would the heart understand
    Being the mother of all?
    Needing no language
    Other than love
    To make a seed
    Grow.

    ~Nanaya

    Reblogged from: therosesign
  5. My Algebra of Dreams: moon prints

    archonofdarkness:

    you left your footprints on the moon
    for poetry archaeologists
    to dig up the traces
    of your soul

    you knew
    they’d fly
    to gather

    the sunflower
    of your poems

    and
    all your
    unfinished questions
    left sleeping in my darkness

    i feel so alone
    when your traced energies
    are scattered along…

    Reblogged from: archonofdarkness
  6. contrarycate:

    formaldehyde smile 
    to bridge a chasm
    hung with gritted teeth
    words of filigree 
    riveted by a desire
    to fix before collapse
    an act of desperate salvage 
    by a fretful heart 
    though the gorge rises
    you step across the span -
    hope is a construct
    plucked from a chasm 


    Reblogged from: contrarycate
  7. lucywithanumlaut:

    vectors from a bulb’s filament
    punch holes in your shadow
    you’re a crucible spilling
    from a singularity

    the angels pull you up
    by your hair

    you sleepwalk with a knife
    and I never wake you

    Reblogged from: lucille-berkowitz
  8. the-ravens-song:

    I don’t know why
    I thought it would be different
    for you.
    I don’t know why
    I thought you would escape
    the suffering surrender
    of no more.
    I thought that bonny part
    of you
    would live forever,
    all wild hair
    and sparking passion.
    In the end
    we are all Medea.
    The innocence we birth
    in dreaming
    must die.
    All Greece hates the barbarian.

    Reblogged from: the-ravens-song
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