my grandmother devours
photo albums
like i devour
sylvia plath anthologies,
mémoire aprés mémoire aprés
mémoire
memory after memory after
memory.
she tells me the same story
about her first job
without a car
five times over,
looking away
to another
world,
black & white to me
& full-color to her.
alzheimer's is a language.
like french, it is
just another part of her.
she does not remember
conversations from a week ago
or to turn over laundry,
but she remembers
bus rides in the south, pre-1964,
white weddings in
grey cathedrals
that are shopping malls now.
i have learned to translate
her repetition,
the ways sh
diary of a psychologist: on hearts by drowsydoe, literature
Literature
diary of a psychologist: on hearts
2.
next time you're alone with your lover,
look deep into their eyes
they might ask you what you're doing
and scrunch their brows
they might crinkle their nose
and tip their head
impatiently.
Tell them to wait.
watch the ribbons in their irises,
the milky muddle of color near the peripheries,
watch the little broken bridges of fibers
that once let the light walk right up to the pupils
and shrink them with a mischievous touch.
then, take their hand after a time
and hold it close to your chest
like you would the rest of them.
there is a phenomenon yet to be explained which occurs
when two people in love stare into each others eyes.
Wh
My friends and Death by FieryDownpour479, literature
Literature
My friends and Death
Death is very jealous. Usually he’s just a little envious, and toys with you a bit. Sometimes he hangs out a lot with my friends. They don’t always notice him though. He likes to hang onto them, leech off of them, often changing his appearance, spooking them. But usually either they walk away from him completely, or he just forgets about them after a while. But my friends aren’t always that lucky.
Death sometimes picks someone. He clings onto them for dear Life, literally. Life doesn’t always hang out with Death so he finds someone else. He gets upset, needy. He literally leaches all the Life out of someone. Every sin
Life got herself into a bit of trouble in the past couple of weeks. She ended up putting herself in the hospital. I couldn’t leave her alone for two seconds without her screwing up something.
I visited her in the hospital for a few days. Despite whatever she had, she still had the same glowing smile, her blonde hair still curled around her face. Even her lipstick look like it never had faded. She was the picture of well, Life, and she was still recovering, but she was going to be okay.
Life hated hospitals. She’d visited one too many, watched too many doctor shows; she knew Death hung around hospitals so often, and she didn̵
I remember struggling with sleeping through the night, and with getting to sleep, as far back as elementary school. It wasn't dire, then, barring one memorable incident when I was in third or fourth grade where I was told a scary story at a Girl Scouts sleepover that haunted me so badly that I couldn't fall asleep without somebody else in the room. I don't remember how long this lasted---in all likelihood it was only a week or so, but to my tired, traumatized little brain it seemed like an eternity. I distinctly recall sitting in my classroom trying to attend to the teacher explaining long division to us, my eyes dry and scratchy, eyelids dro
Maybe I'm just worried that my carelessness
Will follow me into motherhood -
The way I dented my boss's truck when I was 18
And then lied about it
Might mean that when the bough breaks
And I fail, inevitably, to catch the cradle
Lying won't be enough
But it will be all that I can think to do
Maybe I'm worried that the worst in me
Will become the worst in my child
The way I lose my temper with you for no reason
And then blame you
Might mean that when I show my love through a sharp tongue
And I fail, inevitably, to realise the damage done
Apologies won't be enough
But they will be all that I have left to try
Maybe I'm just worried that my lov
Titkok kertje
Titkok kertje hol
a magány lakik.
Titkos ajtók
fényes gondolatok.
itt a magány lakik?
vagy a félelem?
mi tönkre tesz
egy egész életet
Hullnak a könnyek
s törik a szív
ez az a hely hol
a csend visít.
Néma a száj
ordít a lélek.
nem hallja más
csak ki erre téved.
hol van már
az a vágy
mi ezt a helyet
virágba borítaná.
Nem tudja más
csak a gazda
ki létét féltve mutatja.
Vannak ám kik kiváncsiak
kopogtatnak az ajtókon
a lényért kutatva.
kutato
the mechanisms of ocean waves by sylveda, literature
Literature
the mechanisms of ocean waves
When I was little, I loved sea foam.
Running forward to the shore, I would watch waves lap up at my feet and then recede, dragging the sand under my feet back with it. Sea foam would fringe the edges of these silky waves like lace, and I would grab at it, cup it in my hands. I would remember the origins of Aphrodite (born of sea foam, risen out of the ocean as the most beautiful goddess of all), and I would cradle it, hold it close to me, as if I could absorb it into my being.
By the time I brought the sea foam up to my face, it had leaked through my fingers, dissolved. Leaning down, I would cup it again and again and again, gathering fra
It's been months since I wanted to break out of my body. Okay, that's a lie. But it's been days. Days since I've felt static scorch underneath my skin, felt colours cutting into my eyes, had to explain that these aren't metaphors. There are so many ways you can get used to living. I wonder if anyone else feels empty when they don't have creatures clawing up through their throat.
I don't know what art is, or what okay is. I like to believe I know it when I feel it, but I'm not so sure I would. I think people expect me to be a lot more insightful than I am right now. I don't think they take into account that boredom is stressful, and stress ca