/page/2

My mother tells me
that when I meet someone I like,
I have to ask them three questions:

1. what are you afraid of?
2. do you like dogs?
3. what do you do when it rains?

of those three, she says the first one is the most important.
“They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”

I met you on a Sunday, right
after church.
one look and my heart fell into
my stomach like a trap door.

on our second date,
I asked you what you were afraid of.
“spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.”
I asked you if you liked dogs.
“I have three.”
I asked you what you do when it rains.
“sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.”

he smiled like he knew.
like his mom told him the same
thing.
“how about you?”

me?
I’m scared of everything.
of the hole in the o-zone layer,
of the lady next door who never
smiles at her dog,
and especially of all the secrets
the government must be breaking
it’s back trying to keep from us.
I love dogs so much, you have no idea.
I sleep when it rains.
I want to tell everyone I love them.
I want to find every stray animal and bring them home.
I want to wake up in your hair
and make you shitty coffee
and kiss your neck
and draw silly stick figures of us.
I never want to ask anyone else
these questions
ever again.

three questions | Caitlyn Siehl   (via melkingwrites)

i mean the thing is i don’t know if i’ll ever own a dog and i kind of hate the rain but this poem is beautiful and i’m leaving tomorrow and part of what that means is leaving this girl who tentatively told me on our third date that she plans to own a dog one day and was that okay with me, and also that she likes to wear dresses and lipstick sometimes and was that okay with me, and i am scared of this adventure and scared of leaving her but i am going to and i will starting writing poems again this year and it is okay, i am okay

(Source: alonesomes, via melkingwrites)

if I were in your position I would curl up in that ball and put the Darjeeling limited on, and watch the short film beforehand, and when Owen Wilson says “GET INTO IT!” let yourself get into it and when they throw their bags off the train that mean the world to them in exchange for something else that they never had you can remind yourself that everything is a memory in the end and sometimes you let go of stuff you love and are used to and appreciate because you have to in order to grow and heal and become.
– my inbox is filled with all the best advice and most beautiful words, my friends are so wise and i am so lucky to have them
Aren’t we always a bit too involved with matters of the heart? And very honestly I take more pleasure in going all in knowing the mess of me that will emerge when this thing dies because that’s the only way it’s fun. Pay off is better too.
– i’m going through my inbox before i leave and answering emails that need answers and deleting spam and i stumbled upon this gem of a sentiment that an old friend wrote me back in september. putting it here so i don’t lose it.
howtopronouncelaneia:

2014 i am ready for you

howtopronouncelaneia:

2014 i am ready for you

Lifehack: read a whole fucking lot. Start early, as early as possible. Also watch a lot of movies. It doesn’t matter what kind, just watch them. TV shows too. And watch people – watch people, that’s important. Absorb stories like they are cotton candy and hot chocolate, like they are privileges. Read poets like Yeats and Chekhov, but also go to grocery stores and pick up a romance novel (the kind with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty and the dark-haired, tan hero) and finish it sitting in the parking lot. Watch movies that make you cry and change something in you, but also watch Monty Python And The Holy Grail and a lot of superhero films and maybe some bad shoot-em-up Westerns. Watch humanity. Sit still for hours at a store or a school or a street corner and watch how beautiful and ugly and chaotic it is. Listen and, when someone says something so deeply and heart-achingly beautiful, write it down. Write it down, word for word, and remember that the woman behind the counter had a sparrow tattoo and there was a homeless man outside with sad eyes and buy him a drink. Buy him a drink and some food, and look him in the eye when you talk to him.


Lifehack: Talent comes from love and passion and observance and kindness. Do not hole yourself up in rooms, pulling meaningless words from dictionaries. There is poetry in the streets and in your blood – love so fiercely you fear you’ll break, then write it all down.

Lifehack: How to be A Poet | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

"love so fiercely you fear you’ll break, then write it all down."

(via backshelfpoet)

buckeebarnes:

Yoncé - Beyoncé

jesus christ

(Source: philcoulson, via sloganonthewall)

Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, from The Little Prince (via violentwavesofemotion)

"it hurts"

"that means you’re living"

(Source: itsthewaitingunknown, via dippyinthesky)

that this is the hardest time of year for many people in my community.
that many of my friends will never be welcome “home” for the holidays.
that I have friends who have children who will never know their grandparents.
that if I went home I would be the only “single” cousin at my grandmother’s house.
that I am not single.
that there were too many years I did not say, “i am not single.”
that for many people, going home is activism.
that it’s ok to be “too tired.”
that my home is a warm home.
that last night my girlfriend was stringing garland around our stairwell.
that she made a gluten-free-egg-free-dairy-free version of my grandmother’s banana chocolate chip cookies.
that my grandma knitted the best mittens.
that “silent night” is playing on repeat on the stereo.
that I keep daring myself to go “poetry caroling.”
that I am too shy.
that I keep thinking: this christmas is gonna be the first christmas someone’s grandfather gets his grandchild’s pronouns right.
that I keep thinking: next christmas my girlfriend and I are gonna make peanut brittle for my dad.
that christmas lights are bad for the environment and I can’t stop hanging them all over my living room.
that I miss nativity scenes, but not the church.
that i miss the snow in december in maine.
that there are too many people alone tonight.
that people say, “merry christmas.”
that my friend misspelled “marry” as “merry” in her book of poetry.
that i wish everyone in the world could get merried.
that joy would come caroling at everyone’s door.
that this is the hardest time of year for many people in my community.
that leaf.
that leaf that makes the table bigger. that’s something i wish i could be.

"Queer for the Holidays" Andrea Gibson (via lilqueer)

oh just crying quietly in bed

(via aqueensinstincts)

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.

it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

Charles BukowskiLove is a Dog from Hell (via 13neighbors)

(via backshelfpoet)

Anonymous asked: Why do you think it is that we miss them more at night?

backshelfpoet:

It’s the time when they used to hold us.

-

d.a.s

My mother tells me
that when I meet someone I like,
I have to ask them three questions:

1. what are you afraid of?
2. do you like dogs?
3. what do you do when it rains?

of those three, she says the first one is the most important.
“They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”

I met you on a Sunday, right
after church.
one look and my heart fell into
my stomach like a trap door.

on our second date,
I asked you what you were afraid of.
“spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.”
I asked you if you liked dogs.
“I have three.”
I asked you what you do when it rains.
“sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.”

he smiled like he knew.
like his mom told him the same
thing.
“how about you?”

me?
I’m scared of everything.
of the hole in the o-zone layer,
of the lady next door who never
smiles at her dog,
and especially of all the secrets
the government must be breaking
it’s back trying to keep from us.
I love dogs so much, you have no idea.
I sleep when it rains.
I want to tell everyone I love them.
I want to find every stray animal and bring them home.
I want to wake up in your hair
and make you shitty coffee
and kiss your neck
and draw silly stick figures of us.
I never want to ask anyone else
these questions
ever again.

three questions | Caitlyn Siehl   (via melkingwrites)

i mean the thing is i don’t know if i’ll ever own a dog and i kind of hate the rain but this poem is beautiful and i’m leaving tomorrow and part of what that means is leaving this girl who tentatively told me on our third date that she plans to own a dog one day and was that okay with me, and also that she likes to wear dresses and lipstick sometimes and was that okay with me, and i am scared of this adventure and scared of leaving her but i am going to and i will starting writing poems again this year and it is okay, i am okay

(Source: alonesomes, via melkingwrites)

if I were in your position I would curl up in that ball and put the Darjeeling limited on, and watch the short film beforehand, and when Owen Wilson says “GET INTO IT!” let yourself get into it and when they throw their bags off the train that mean the world to them in exchange for something else that they never had you can remind yourself that everything is a memory in the end and sometimes you let go of stuff you love and are used to and appreciate because you have to in order to grow and heal and become.
– my inbox is filled with all the best advice and most beautiful words, my friends are so wise and i am so lucky to have them
Aren’t we always a bit too involved with matters of the heart? And very honestly I take more pleasure in going all in knowing the mess of me that will emerge when this thing dies because that’s the only way it’s fun. Pay off is better too.
– i’m going through my inbox before i leave and answering emails that need answers and deleting spam and i stumbled upon this gem of a sentiment that an old friend wrote me back in september. putting it here so i don’t lose it.
howtopronouncelaneia:

2014 i am ready for you

howtopronouncelaneia:

2014 i am ready for you

Lifehack: read a whole fucking lot. Start early, as early as possible. Also watch a lot of movies. It doesn’t matter what kind, just watch them. TV shows too. And watch people – watch people, that’s important. Absorb stories like they are cotton candy and hot chocolate, like they are privileges. Read poets like Yeats and Chekhov, but also go to grocery stores and pick up a romance novel (the kind with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty and the dark-haired, tan hero) and finish it sitting in the parking lot. Watch movies that make you cry and change something in you, but also watch Monty Python And The Holy Grail and a lot of superhero films and maybe some bad shoot-em-up Westerns. Watch humanity. Sit still for hours at a store or a school or a street corner and watch how beautiful and ugly and chaotic it is. Listen and, when someone says something so deeply and heart-achingly beautiful, write it down. Write it down, word for word, and remember that the woman behind the counter had a sparrow tattoo and there was a homeless man outside with sad eyes and buy him a drink. Buy him a drink and some food, and look him in the eye when you talk to him.


Lifehack: Talent comes from love and passion and observance and kindness. Do not hole yourself up in rooms, pulling meaningless words from dictionaries. There is poetry in the streets and in your blood – love so fiercely you fear you’ll break, then write it all down.

Lifehack: How to be A Poet | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

"love so fiercely you fear you’ll break, then write it all down."

(via backshelfpoet)

buckeebarnes:

Yoncé - Beyoncé

jesus christ

(Source: philcoulson, via sloganonthewall)

Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, from The Little Prince (via violentwavesofemotion)

"it hurts"

"that means you’re living"

(Source: itsthewaitingunknown, via dippyinthesky)

that this is the hardest time of year for many people in my community.
that many of my friends will never be welcome “home” for the holidays.
that I have friends who have children who will never know their grandparents.
that if I went home I would be the only “single” cousin at my grandmother’s house.
that I am not single.
that there were too many years I did not say, “i am not single.”
that for many people, going home is activism.
that it’s ok to be “too tired.”
that my home is a warm home.
that last night my girlfriend was stringing garland around our stairwell.
that she made a gluten-free-egg-free-dairy-free version of my grandmother’s banana chocolate chip cookies.
that my grandma knitted the best mittens.
that “silent night” is playing on repeat on the stereo.
that I keep daring myself to go “poetry caroling.”
that I am too shy.
that I keep thinking: this christmas is gonna be the first christmas someone’s grandfather gets his grandchild’s pronouns right.
that I keep thinking: next christmas my girlfriend and I are gonna make peanut brittle for my dad.
that christmas lights are bad for the environment and I can’t stop hanging them all over my living room.
that I miss nativity scenes, but not the church.
that i miss the snow in december in maine.
that there are too many people alone tonight.
that people say, “merry christmas.”
that my friend misspelled “marry” as “merry” in her book of poetry.
that i wish everyone in the world could get merried.
that joy would come caroling at everyone’s door.
that this is the hardest time of year for many people in my community.
that leaf.
that leaf that makes the table bigger. that’s something i wish i could be.

"Queer for the Holidays" Andrea Gibson (via lilqueer)

oh just crying quietly in bed

(via aqueensinstincts)

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.

it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

Charles BukowskiLove is a Dog from Hell (via 13neighbors)

(via backshelfpoet)

Anonymous asked: Why do you think it is that we miss them more at night?

backshelfpoet:

It’s the time when they used to hold us.

-

d.a.s

"

My mother tells me
that when I meet someone I like,
I have to ask them three questions:

1. what are you afraid of?
2. do you like dogs?
3. what do you do when it rains?

of those three, she says the first one is the most important.
“They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”

I met you on a Sunday, right
after church.
one look and my heart fell into
my stomach like a trap door.

on our second date,
I asked you what you were afraid of.
“spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.”
I asked you if you liked dogs.
“I have three.”
I asked you what you do when it rains.
“sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.”

he smiled like he knew.
like his mom told him the same
thing.
“how about you?”

me?
I’m scared of everything.
of the hole in the o-zone layer,
of the lady next door who never
smiles at her dog,
and especially of all the secrets
the government must be breaking
it’s back trying to keep from us.
I love dogs so much, you have no idea.
I sleep when it rains.
I want to tell everyone I love them.
I want to find every stray animal and bring them home.
I want to wake up in your hair
and make you shitty coffee
and kiss your neck
and draw silly stick figures of us.
I never want to ask anyone else
these questions
ever again.

"
"if I were in your position I would curl up in that ball and put the Darjeeling limited on, and watch the short film beforehand, and when Owen Wilson says “GET INTO IT!” let yourself get into it and when they throw their bags off the train that mean the world to them in exchange for something else that they never had you can remind yourself that everything is a memory in the end and sometimes you let go of stuff you love and are used to and appreciate because you have to in order to grow and heal and become."
"Aren’t we always a bit too involved with matters of the heart? And very honestly I take more pleasure in going all in knowing the mess of me that will emerge when this thing dies because that’s the only way it’s fun. Pay off is better too."
"

Lifehack: read a whole fucking lot. Start early, as early as possible. Also watch a lot of movies. It doesn’t matter what kind, just watch them. TV shows too. And watch people – watch people, that’s important. Absorb stories like they are cotton candy and hot chocolate, like they are privileges. Read poets like Yeats and Chekhov, but also go to grocery stores and pick up a romance novel (the kind with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty and the dark-haired, tan hero) and finish it sitting in the parking lot. Watch movies that make you cry and change something in you, but also watch Monty Python And The Holy Grail and a lot of superhero films and maybe some bad shoot-em-up Westerns. Watch humanity. Sit still for hours at a store or a school or a street corner and watch how beautiful and ugly and chaotic it is. Listen and, when someone says something so deeply and heart-achingly beautiful, write it down. Write it down, word for word, and remember that the woman behind the counter had a sparrow tattoo and there was a homeless man outside with sad eyes and buy him a drink. Buy him a drink and some food, and look him in the eye when you talk to him.


Lifehack: Talent comes from love and passion and observance and kindness. Do not hole yourself up in rooms, pulling meaningless words from dictionaries. There is poetry in the streets and in your blood – love so fiercely you fear you’ll break, then write it all down.

"
"Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence."
"that this is the hardest time of year for many people in my community.
that many of my friends will never be welcome “home” for the holidays.
that I have friends who have children who will never know their grandparents.
that if I went home I would be the only “single” cousin at my grandmother’s house.
that I am not single.
that there were too many years I did not say, “i am not single.”
that for many people, going home is activism.
that it’s ok to be “too tired.”
that my home is a warm home.
that last night my girlfriend was stringing garland around our stairwell.
that she made a gluten-free-egg-free-dairy-free version of my grandmother’s banana chocolate chip cookies.
that my grandma knitted the best mittens.
that “silent night” is playing on repeat on the stereo.
that I keep daring myself to go “poetry caroling.”
that I am too shy.
that I keep thinking: this christmas is gonna be the first christmas someone’s grandfather gets his grandchild’s pronouns right.
that I keep thinking: next christmas my girlfriend and I are gonna make peanut brittle for my dad.
that christmas lights are bad for the environment and I can’t stop hanging them all over my living room.
that I miss nativity scenes, but not the church.
that i miss the snow in december in maine.
that there are too many people alone tonight.
that people say, “merry christmas.”
that my friend misspelled “marry” as “merry” in her book of poetry.
that i wish everyone in the world could get merried.
that joy would come caroling at everyone’s door.
that this is the hardest time of year for many people in my community.
that leaf.
that leaf that makes the table bigger. that’s something i wish i could be."
"

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.

it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

"

About:

quit my life, going on an adventure.

Following:

am.
mks