and the rest is rust and stardust

if the divine master plan is perfection maybe next i'll give judas a try. +


favorite fictional females | alison hendrix (orphan black)

"And I thank you. For scrutinizing every detail of my life since the day I moved into this fishbowl. You have pried and snooped and gossiped about me like I was your own personal laboratory subject. How would you like it if I turned your life inside out? If I told all these people that Chad, your husband, slept with the spin class instructor long before me? Well, maybe he acts that way because you BLEW THE ROOFER AT THE CABIN!

There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don’t know and even the people you don’t want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face.


I found this copy of Thoreau’s Walden buried in the park.  I opened it and saw these roots growing between the pages. I don’t know whether to frame it or put it back in the ground.

You stared at my wrists continually throughout the evening and looked up at me with tears beginning to form in your eyes. I could feel your sadness and disappointment through your shaky comforting fingertips. Your heart broke when you saw them. It’s only fair that you had to eventually break mine too. It must be so tiring to keep reassuring someone that they’re worth it. You gave up on helping me, not give up. So now your new brunette girlfriend. She’s ok. but does she make you feel? Does she pour her heart out in 3 am texts and does she kiss you so hard that you feel as if you’re gulping down stars? Does she insist on holding your hand when even when it’s -20 outside and your hands will probably freeze clasped in together? Does she brush the hair out of your eyes and write bitter poetry about that time you forgot to say “I love you” back. I’m not perfect but I loved you with every fibre of my existence. Lonliness and sadness is part of the human experience. And you made me feel fucking everything. She’s so transparent. Maybe she doesn’t have cigarette smoke lingering in her lungs and she doesn’t swallow pills hysterically because of random flashbacks of her father calling her worthless, but she’ll never kiss you goodnight when you have bad breath because of all the alcohol and emptiness like I used to. I didn’t mind at all. You tasted like fire and it burned my mouth a little. But I’d let you kiss me until the sun collapses in on itself if it meant a happier ending.

I exist in two places,
here and where you are

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis


Julia McNeill
Into the Calm, 2014