Tag: words

eyesbetray:

ambedo n. a kind of melacholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life

inkskinned:

how many baby dolls were given to girls who didn’t want to be mothers. who have to look their families in the eyes and refuse. how many pink blankets, baby-be-mine, mothering practice did we give to girls who just wanted a truck, a toolbox, a science textbook. how many times did we forget that both can exist in the same person. how many arguments were never had because ladies don’t raise their voice; how many women think they are too weak to leave because they’re nothing without a home. how many girls look at their lives as finishing at 25, no longer young and pretty. see the finish line as being married. how many women have children not out of want of them: but only because it seems like something that should happen.

how many screwdrivers were given to boys who didn’t want to fix other people’s mistakes. who have to tell their parents that they’re not into violence. how many helmets, tiny cars, live-fast-die-hard examples did we give to little boys who wanted to be gentle, to read, to play with dollies. how many times did we refuse to let him be soft at all. how many boys feel comfortable with the idea of fatherhood, trapped between the fear that they will hate being married and the realization they have no idea how to handle child rearing. have words they cannot say bubbling up inside of them. how many marriages have been ruined over a lack of communication. how many men sit in silence in their own homes, strangely isolated; being unable to be homemakers without peer taunting, being unable to be absent without feeling nothing.

how many people have we broken. how many times have we ruined the futures of our children. was it so important to us that they only wear blue. was it so important to us that they never played trucks in school. what did we do.

In the new age, Artemis is a girl
who doesn’t believe in love.
Aims her arrows at the stars,
sees Orion in the night sky.
Drops her bow, doesn’t
pick it up again.

(The twenty-first century has no room
for warriors and huntresses and
goddesses who bleed silver,
if they bleed at all.)

In the new age, Apollo is a boy
who loves far too deeply.
Falls head over heels for
a girl wreathed in laurel.
Out there, in a big city
somewhere, Eros laughs.

(The twenty-first century has no space
for poets and musicians and
golden-hearted gods
left shining alone.)

In the new age, the twins
can’t find each other.
The forests are cut down and
the sun hides behind smoke.

On an island off the coast of Greece,
Leto weeps.

we built ourselves a dystopia | m.j. (via fairytalesques)

I know, it feels like you need to get your life on track. I know, it feels like you should be further ahead. I know, it feels like you’re stuck in that rut. You want to get it together and get over the inadequacy, uncertainty, missed chances, and all the should’ve-beens.Don’t beat yourself up about it. Pace yourself, relax your fists, make steps, and don’t run. Let the dream breathe. Should-be is still could-be, and though time is short, time is left. Your moment is any moment you say now.

J.S. (via acklesjpeg)