probably the saddest poem I have ever written
your love will come too late
dormeuseduval asked: Hello ! (✿◠‿◠) Once you get this you must share five random facts about yourself then pass this on to your 10 favorite followers.
but Kelsi… fine
1. I am a certified deep-sea scuba diver and have swam with sharks (unintentionally) twice.
2. I can’t remember anything before I was 12 except that I used to have this reoccurring dream about being an old man at his own funeral and that when I was 6 I wanted to change my middle name to “Thumper” because of Bambi.
3. I have an English degree and have never read Beowulf or most of Shakespeare’s works (just Hamlet, Macbeth and his sonnets).
4. Blackberries are my favorite.
5. If I could be anything I would want to be a marine biologist and study the deep-sea or a race car driver.
The OBSESSION issue includes interviews with artists Lindsay Bottos and Shae Detar, an exclusive photoshoot by Elizabeth Foster, writing pieces by June Tang and Daniel Stephensen, an interview with fashion blogger Kiana McCourt, insight on Yves Navarre’s “I Am A Cat,” the art of Henry Darger, films by Sofia Coppola and much, much more!
It’s here! Thistle’s Fall/Obsession issue is ready & waiting for you on Magcloud!
Oh my word, it’s here!! The lovely Thistle magazine is all ready with its Fall issue for you to read. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed making it. (The digital copy is free, free, free!!)
I’m in this!
Photo by Kija Lucas
New Orleans, LA
I know her!
The first of many trains, all the goings and goings and goings - your rumpled white shirt, tucked in, wearing polarized lenses even though the only light is neon. A lady asks for a cigarette with her breasts and we walk the labyrinth to your apartment. You tell me I am a city girl - that I could be - that I want to be. It feels like you pet my hair and hold my shoulders, pinching the bones with your thumbs, measuring, giving me your words by the bale-full.
On your stair-less fire escape there is geometrical deadness and metal like the kind wrapped around my fingers. Your across-the-way neighbor yells hello with her bare breasts. You think she speaks Portuguese. She is French. She has sex for money, she tells us so when we are drinking at the bar you gave a name to. I drink from her straw, thinking it would be elegant to touch the lips of Sabrina for free, a sort of thievery. She thinks you are my lover and there is a weightiness there in her words that sounds like spare sorrow and I think Sabrina is also a psychic and that’s what she meant to say instead.
It is I that fills you in the hot breath of the city and it feels like stagnancy. I feel stillborn and blue. You tell me that I have always wondered – that I have been waiting and I wish I’d been born with more arms, arachnidan. Swallowing you back. No one sees us naked on the fire escape in the city-shade of un-darkness. My breasts say I am sorry over and over, but not to you, maybe to Sabrina and I hope she is looking out her dark window, but we both know she is busy getting paid.
we were sitting in your bathtub
navy hoodies pulled up over our heads
the wonky-eyed face of the faucet
the shampoo bottles
the water glass was too big in my hands
I could fill the whole tub in one swallow.
It wasn’t so big in yours.
in the bathtub fully clothed
everything is funny
you are a man
i am a girl
i wonder which eye you are looking through.
you can look in the mirror.
in the bathtub fully clothed
your shower curtain torn
I am all knees
somewhere between red and orange.
my finger has stopped bleeding
but I can feel the moving gap of a palm sliced open.
you said I should never do anything that was not me
1st – an insult
you don’t know me.
maybe that is me.
2nd – a questionable look
everybody else chanting
digging your fingers into my skin
- “Looking on oneself as something alien, forgetting the sight, remembering the gaze.”— Franz Kafka, Notebooks December 9, 1917 (via deaths-and-entrances)
- “I love tattooed women, maybe because they are uncontrollable, they are themselves to the point of drawing symbols of their power on their skin. Talk...”
I think it’s so sweet when people remember lil things about me but I feel like such a creep when I remember things about people