I could lay down a stronghold
of demons and diagnoses
disconnected addiction and drama,
but the shitty-stutter truth boils down
to one dreary destination:
that I am tired of many things;
I must soon go away.
I could scream miles of veins
blue-necked horror at the misery of things
or collapse inwardly
implode the hollow hell of how I feel
expose a heart that beats
because that it is all it knows:
that I am here for many things;
I must soon be gone.
- Chris Lees
just as I was getting used to you
you stored me, unattempted
in your wallet
as if you don’t want to spend me
when I’m not at my highest worth
but I can’t be saved.
"Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow. Never expect to outgrow loneliness. Never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space. An intelligent, sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception. If you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment. The best you’ll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way."White Oleander, Janet Finch (via stainedpoems)
I'm trying and I'm trying to find a purpose in myself, but to no avail. I'm scared. And I'm sorry for existing. I sound pathetic, I know, and I'm sorry again. Is there any writing for that?
"You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
—Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”