outside the window, spring is here
but we’re gonna hibernate all year
under a pile of A4 snowflakes

lines

brows up, brows down
in the rearview mirror at a stoplight,
examining the fine lines
left by time tiptoeing from left ear to right.

some notion of fairness tells us
that blemishes clear by wrinkle season
yet lines and spots seem to get along fine
on my face, like Morse-coded imperfection

across the table in the dim hip light
i feign eye contact, sneaking glimpses at your forehead.
your lines are deeper. have you frowned more,
thought more, been shocked more times than i?

we are new to each other; we will never know
the space between our smooth-skinned selves.
i barely know your father but i see already
you are, as years crawl, becoming him.

here i am, back in tumbl-land

and I’m not sure what all to say. it’s been 6 months and i am the same but everything is different. i wake up at 6am. my eyes are glued 10 hours a day to two screens propped in the corner of an office that is too big for just me. there’s not a single day that the sun doesn’t shine. my evenings are spin classes and maybe dinner and bed. california hills rise around me but i don’t know who to climb them with.

my three best friends within ten miles are all jewish boys. at least one of them makes me laugh aloud each day and that is what i need. 

i pine for the city and the life i left every day. being an adult is mostly what i thought it would be. let’s see where tumblr fits in. 

Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering
any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.

Dorianne Laux, from Antilamentation. (via undare)

(via commovente)

how do you feel about self harm?

Wow, first thing in my ask in ages. Tricky subject for me — it was rather common (and pretty severe) among my friends for some time when I was younger, and it scared the shit out of me then. I encounter it less often now but even the thought frankly still troubles me a lot. I’m careful not to pass any kind of judgment about a person who self-harms, since I’m sure there are some people who successfully use it as a controlled coping technique. When something threatens the people you care about during your formative years, though, it’s pretty hard to get comfy with the thought of it.

Curious to know why you ask.