iam-kings

[iam-kings]

I am sorry for who I am

Believe me, I have tried to hold it down

Painted my face in all the colours of my sleepy town

Stripped back each layer of skin and hidden secrets like dirt between each cracked finger nail

I have walked into the arms of silence and I have let the cold seep deep into my bones

And in the dark I have become a blurred face for someone longing for someone else

And hell

I have gone to hell only to find myself

[iam-kings]

« I am growing […] I am losing some illusions […] perhaps to acquire others »

- Orlando by Virginia Woolf

#dark academia #poetry #poems #literature #orlando #virginia woolf #writing #life

[iam-kings]

“It occurred to me that every unjustly inflicted death deserved public exposure. Even an Insect’s. A death that nobody noticed was twice as scandalous.”

— Olga Tokarczuk, Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead

[iam-kings]

— Fiona Apple

[iam-kings]

“For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love. We love only the person we can eat. The person we hate we ‘can’t swallow.’ That one makes us vomit. Even our friends are inedible. If we were asked to dig into our friend’s flesh we would be disgusted. The person we love we dream only of eating. That is, we slide down that razor’s edge of ambivalence. The story of torment itself is a very beautiful one. Because loving is wanting and being able to eat up and yet to stop at the boundary. And there, at the tiniest beat between springing and stopping, in rushes fear. The spring is already in mid-air. The heart stops. The heart takes off again. Everything in love is oriented towards this absorption. At the same time real love is a don’t-touch, yet still an almost-touching. Tact itself: a phantom touching. Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up. Fear of eating, fear of the edible, fear on the part of the one of them who feels loved, desired, who wants to be loved, desired, who desires to be desired, who knows there is no greater proof of love than the other’s appetite, who is dying to be eaten up, who says or doesn’t say, but who signifies: I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. And yet manage it so as to keep me alive. But I often turn about or compromise, because I know that you won’t eat me up, in the end, and I urge you: bite me. Sign my death with your teeth.”

— Helene Cixous, “The Love of the Wolf”

[iam-kings]

‘Soliloquy of the solipsist’ // Sylvia Plath

#dark academia #poetry #thoughts #poems #literature #classics #reading #sylvia plath #prose

[iam-kings]

‘What I must have ceased to be in order to be who I am’

- Nadja, André Breton

#dark academia #poetry #thoughts #poems #literature #life #quotes #classics #writing #andre breton #nadja #reading

[iam-kings]

Victoria Chang, from "The Islands, 1961" (for Agnes Martin)

[iam-kings]

girls be like . ooh new bruise

[iam-kings]

Janet Fitch, from “White Oleander”

[iam-kings]

Laundry (2002) ‘ランドリー’ dir. Junichi Mori

[iam-kings]

The time with you is gone now, I remember it no more, I wouldn’t recognise myself even. She smiled blazingly once but that time is a shadow. When there is something that keeps you thinking late at night, is it memory or mourning? Recollections or love?

#dark academia #poetry #thoughts #poems #literature #sad #life #classics #writing #music #love #reading #words

[iam-kings]

“Patricia” by Florence and The Machine

[iam-kings]

my mutuals are the most diverse group of psychologically tormented people youve ever seen

[iam-kings]

-Heidi Priebe, As Long As There Is Love, There Will Be Grief

[TEXT ID: The grief of time passing, of life moving on half-finished, of empty spaces that were once bursting with the laughter and energy of people we loved. As long as there is love there will be grief because grief is love's natural continuation. It shows up in the aisles of stores we once frequented, in the whiff of cologne we get two years after they've been gone. Grief is a giant neon sign, protruding through everything, pointing everywhere, broadcasting loudly, "LOVE WAS HERE". In the finer print, quietly, "LOVE STILL IS". END ID]

[iam-kings]

SEPTEMBER

song of the simple truth: the complete poems - julia de burgos / a september day - george henry / excerpt from a letter to aurelia plath - sylvia plath / french autumn - artem tolstukhin / earthquake weather - janice gould / blue shutters - kim english / a girl ago - lucie brock-broido / little women (2019) dir. greta gerwig / september garden party - jane kenyon / constanze saemann and charlotte foubert photographed by ryan brabazon / september 1st - dante émile

[iam-kings]

Simone de Beauvoir, from Letters to Sartre; September 7th, 1939

Text ID: I'm not thinking about the day when I'll see you again, […] I don’t need to see you — I'm not separated from you, I'm still in the same world as you. […] I love you. You haven’t left me