Frida Kahlo & Chavela Vargas. Photo By Nickolas Muray, 1945

USS Belleau Wood aflame on her aft flight deck following a Japanese kamikaze attack on 30 October 1944.

via reddit

Purity

our love

when it was there

so pure it was

yet there was a gap

a gap which somehow

could never be filled

constantly it felt as if something was missing

but I know one thing for sure

it sure made me happy

and it sure was real.

I’ve got a closet filled up to the brim with the ghosts of my past and skeletons

Boys like girls (via cupids-chokehold)

"I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond the daily life." -Virginia Woolf.

“I don’t care where it ends, let it begin.”

—

Purpose

There’s a certain life I envision for myself

Often times I lose sight of it

I forget it

I come back to reality, neglecting my beloved dreamer self, the Pisces moon in me

I am a dreamer

An enthusiastic one

Often times I get lost in my own enthusiasm

In my passions and aspirations

In my love for self

A love for self that has taken years of mastery and of which is a constant work in progress

I want to live a life of serving my higher self and the universe itself

This excites me like nothing else ever has

This is not to say I don’t fear it’s unraveling and the mere thought of it not becoming a reality

This fear stems from limiting beliefs

But God, do I promise myself to not make the mistakes I witness others making

Neglecting thyselves to live their own lives through the image of others

God forbid !

I choose me. And I vow to always choose me.

I listened to Bukowski this morning, and I realized my writing is not raw enough, angry enough, drunk enough; I even drink red wine instead of cheap beer. I detest cigarettes, never served in war, or roamed the streets looking to settle on the bed of some dude’s crude floor. I’m too feminine, too much an inherent believer in the quality of people. My heart is adversely set against his heretical ways. I’ve never been stabbed in the back by love, or if I have, I pulled the prick out years ago, and time and forgiveness have sealed the scar over. I might have even forgotten where the wounds are buried. I never carved mistakes out of people, stole time in self destruction, stared into the holes of another’s deceit. I’m not modern enough to be a true angst-filled American poet. I don’t possess the tongue to squeeze lemon over my open lesions letting them ooze into a glass I pour out as charity for the masses. Come, let me sacrifice hopelessness for the voyeurs. No, I only know to write of the way his lips taste the soft worlds within my seascape, the slant of patchwork light filtering through the hallway window, jewel-toned shells that satiate my harlequin heart. I only know of simple subjects; I’ve somehow been denied the stench or overlooked the cracked places harboring broken bottles and blood-stained lips. Does that make me any less a poet, I wonder.

upon reading Bukowski//

Rhapsodyinblue45

4.8.18

Sometimes you just gotta stay silent cause no words can explain the shit that’s going on in your mind and heart.

excerpt from who cares if it’s a choice? snappy answers to 101 nosy, intrusive, and highly personal questions about lesbians and gays by ellen orleans, june 1994

Her

‪i could talk about the way she made me feel all day long, i had spent days and nights day-dreaming of the spontaneous adventures i longed to have with her‬

with my bare imagination, i could outline on a blank canvas the shape of her torso all the way down her hips

or the way her face lightened up when she shyly smiled

god knows how jolly my days would be with her divine presence

god knows she would be the cause of my sanity as without her, my heart turns wild and i lose my sanity unable to control my emotions and endlessly longing for love only she could give me

joy, only her eyes could give me, and freedom only she could grant me.

for her i would steal the sky a million times and over

for the joy she gives me has no price,

i would leap over mountains and cross oceans to simply listen to her speak of all her anime fantasies and all her favorite characters, to listen to her dreams and all the weird food combinations she loves.