i want to swallow stars. i want to feel okay, even when i feel like shit. i want it to be okay to feel like shit because it’s mine. i want to scream out when i am in pain, and let that be enough. i want to live brand new, mouth shut tight on the things that have hurt me because i remain unchanged, unaltered, myself despite everything. i want galaxies. i want nothing but honesty, and to be fiercely kind, unapologetically beautiful. i want collar bones. i want books in stacks and cursing my way through every sentence and smoke curling through empty spaces. i want to dig my way through cities like a vein to make them feel like home until the whole world is a heart, city by city. i want honey and bread. i want touch until there is no pain. i want consistency and constant movement, always forward. i want to take a knife to the infections that pollute the world, cut them out and leave them to heal for themselves bloody and limp, because they will. there will be horror, but there is strength that comes in knowing you can test yourself against the assumptions you’ve always had of what you can most stand, and exceeding that limit, over and over and over again, until hurting is understood as another way to create and expand and hold your own hand. i want to get there. and i will.
new york i love you but you're bringing me down - so maybe i wanted to give you something more
than a catalog of non-definitive acts
18 February 2010 @ 04:40 am
new york i love you but you're bringing me down