therumpus
therumpus:


 Aquarius: This can be a good week for getting unstuck from the things that have been weighing you down. You don’t have to run away and you don’t have to leave your whole life behind, but you can take small slow steps out of dark rooms and sad places, this week. You can find new sources of energy, you can find new sources of joy, you can find so many ways to sustain yourself. Believe in your own motion. Believe in your own bravery. Open your windows, or cut your sleeves off your shirt, or go swimming all day.
Today’s image was made specially for Madame Clairevoyant by Jen May.

therumpus:

Aquarius: This can be a good week for getting unstuck from the things that have been weighing you down. You don’t have to run away and you don’t have to leave your whole life behind, but you can take small slow steps out of dark rooms and sad places, this week. You can find new sources of energy, you can find new sources of joy, you can find so many ways to sustain yourself. Believe in your own motion. Believe in your own bravery. Open your windows, or cut your sleeves off your shirt, or go swimming all day.

Today’s image was made specially for Madame Clairevoyant by Jen May.

5.

There are so many things that are unfair.
Such a baby’s word,
but I mean it, tongue out
and all.

Nothing can prepare you
for the hot pink claw marks that will be your stomach.
The puffiness
that will be your face. Your lopsided tits.
A heart
that no longer exists.

How do you explain
to your little sister, newly graduated and
the greenest green, that sometimes
the only thing that gets you out of bed
is the image of your own throat
slit open?
A necklace of dark black blood pouring
down your chest, spurting up
and hitting the ceiling,
your boyfriend’s worried face.

How do you tell someone
that you cope
by imagining a bone saw crunching
it’s way through your limbs, that the ooey gooey
stretch and pull
of your flesh separating from the muscle,
all of that yellow fat, can keep a smile
on your face like a handful of pills might?

A dismemberment plan
for your depression. A drain
circled by imaginary guts
and often, very real blood.

A skeleton of dust,
your breath held forever,
you guess.
A grip
on the back of your own head
and all of those teeth flashing, aching, wanting to be smashed.

An exposed nerve.
And a finger, digging in.

oofpoetry

I remember your collarbone, forming the tiniest
satellite dish in the universe, your smile
as the place where parallel lines inevitably crossed.

Now dinosaurs freeze to death on your shoulder.

I remember your eyes: fifty attack dogs on a single leash,
how I once held the soft audience of your hand.

I’ve been ignored by prettier women than you,
but none who carried the heavy pitchers of silence
so far, without spilling a drop.

Jeffrey McDaniel, from “Letter to the Woman Who Stopped Writing Me Back” (via oofpoetry)