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#on rage
lovely-abeille · 10 months
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glass, irony and good, anne carson // margaret atwood // enough, suzanne buffam // linnea paskow // in conversation: kathleen turner, david marchese // haunted womanhood, heather havrilesky // where to begin, sue zhao // the stream of life, clarice lisepector
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fuckingwhateverdude · 4 months
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12.17.23
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sentientsky · 5 months
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hmmmmgrhhf thinking bout crowley and childhood trauma and abandonment and rage again
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yeetiestofyoots · 1 year
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On Jameson and rage
K.C. Cramm // anger I’m good at // White Oleander by Janet Fitch // Audre Lorde // Richney Edwards // Warsan Shire 
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pikslasrce · 2 years
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[transcript: 1. "I feel it's my anger that has helped keep me alive,"
2. "I've polished this anger and now its a knife."
3. "If only I could sustain my anger
Feel it grow stronger and stronger
It sharpens to a point and sheds my skin
Shakes off the weight of my sins
And takes me to heaven"
4. "TELL ME WHERE TO PUT MY ANGER
TELL ME WHERE TO PUT MY ANGER
TELL ME WHERE TO PUT MY ANGER"
5. "Rage, maybe rage would lift me up, make me stand, make me walk —"
6. "Isn't all that rage so ugly?
And isn't it mine, still? Good God, isn't it mine?"/end transcript]
Audre Lorde, Sister Love: The Letters of Audre Lorde & Pat Parker // Cathy Linh Che, Go Forget Your Father // The Ballad of the Costa Concordia, Car Seat Headrest // @/rbhvleo (x) // Marlon James, Black Leopard, Red Wolf // Ashe Vernon, "Buried", Not a Girl
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theprofoundcosmos · 1 year
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cruelty makes rage.
pinterest / grievng-deactivated20201219 on tumblr / Audre Lorde, "Sister Love: The Letters Of Audre Lorde and Pat Parker" / Warshan Shire / source unknown / Richey Edwards / Emily Brontê / pinterest
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chaoscroissant · 11 months
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THE RAGE IS ROTTING ME, IT MAKES ME VIOLENT
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handlingwelcome · 8 months
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On Miguel O'Hara
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sinligh · 28 days
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Stable.
a presence that changes nothing I control nothing,
Not the rhythm of my breathing Nor that of my emotions.
I share my blood with a phantom of melancholy, a tempered shadow that shields me from grief
I sacrifice, as all women learn to do;
In this life, you either choose violence, or it comes knocking at your door
until your heart starts beating with its rhythm, erratically.. until you’re “hysterical”
But what woman hasn’t been called that at least once in her life?
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today, i scheduled an appointment with death first thing in the morning
physiological or metaphysical, what difference does it make ?
around 4 hours between time and space.
I haven’t slept yet, this is my Eurydice and I know better than to look back; but I’m weighed down with grief, and rage alike.
what colors does it take? sometimes i believe it to be the exact shade of my eyes, dark brown, like blood that’s been accumulating under a layer of skin for too long
Or chocolate like...
I think I’ve tasted it; a lucid dream..
an early state of decomposition a tree with branches that are made of coping mechanisms and abandoned reveries taking up the place of my lungs
Grief like, it grows just as much as i do.
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my age now is double what It was when i first discovered what grief means…
a decade of steps that i took while i try to redefine it, this time it felt like :
your last step was my first and now I live everything halfway through because I’m always concerned: what if I’m not missing you.
a lifetime of me trying to accept it, like a foreign organ that my body kept on rejecting until it failed, in a random day; and built it’s walls all around it
life with a core of undeniable death…
that’s the beginning of all that i am,
an exsanguination.
and at my weakest, i resent you for leaving me with no other option..
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I don’t know when it happened, but subconsciously, I started associating the day I lost you with the day i was born
my reincarnation, unwillingly.
All those terms... bloodstains that I must leave behind
A temperament gene. Isn’t it clear ?
I stand still in the past, where my vulnerability lies in a grave
with all the unknown. and I think my greatest regret
was thinking that i needed more time, to come up with a language that we both understand to tell you that l love you.
and that’s of little to no value..
I regret believing i had time, now as a redemption, I’ll forever live as a skeleton of fragmented existence underneath a flesh that’s sewed on with patches of half chewed rage.
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•••
• Quotes: Sophocles/Caroline M. Mar/ Taylor swift/ Nicole W. Lee/ Sara Luisa Kirk/ Sylvia Plath/ Louis Tomlinson/ Emilie Autumn/ Fyodor Dostoevsky/ Franz Kafka/Forugh Farrokhzad,
• Original context: Sinligh
• Art reference:
1. Painting by William Adolphe Bouguereau. 2. The Mausoleum by the Phantom Painter. 3. Louis Janmot, Fleur des champs (details) 4. Despair by Bertha Wegmann 5. Tristan et Isolde (Death), Rogelio de Egusquiza
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thanataes · 17 days
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lamb teeth by @thanataes
wild boar, cardiff castle, photo by martin beek // jen mazza "peripety" // peter goodfellow
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lovely-abeille · 7 months
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Can I request a webweave about love, rage and overall strong emotions?
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romance, elaine kahn // schuyler peck // judas, k. wright // angels in america, tony kushner // poem of the end, marina tsvetaeva // a prayer, tathève simonyan
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what’s wrong with you?
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corruptedtwinks · 2 months
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Tory Adkisson - Anecdote of the Pig /// Anne Sexton/Linda Pastan - The Poet Of Ignorance/Why Are Your Poems So Dark? /// Gregory Orr - Origin of the Marble /// Twenty One Pilots - Polarize /// Margaret Atwood - The Handmaid’s Tale /// Ernest Hemingway - The Complete Short Stories
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? / karvviie / bring me the horizon / 6vcr / waters / athena nasar / ? / corpse / poison-p!nk / omar sakr
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I am the thing that they tried to kill. I am the creature they whisper about in their homes. The thing they label as 'dangerous' as 'wrong'. I am the queer and I am the faggot. I am everything they never liked. I am every so called bug crushed under their heel.
I crawl, raw, bloody, and righteous from the ashes of complacency and I scream, I scream, I scream. I scream for those who never got to and those who one day will. I was quiet and sweet once. They made me this. I was told to fit in, to do what I was asked. So I yell and I stumble and I rage.
They tried to smooth me down, shape me to their liking. Make me become something I'm not. A suburban home, an office job, a reluctant marriage, two kids. File down my roughened edges to fit their 'perfect' mould. But I am a wild thing with teeth and claws. I tear through the plaster walls and run recklessly into the woods.
She traces the line of my jaw and I realise what it is to be whole. Worship not in churches but in fierce love. We dance under the starlit sky and tear away their gilded chains. Let them cry and wail for their so called morals. I do not care. I do not care!
There is no love is beige walls and forced smile. There is no joy in doing what they would wish. I am a creature of forgotten words and secret smiles. I am a creature of smoke and rage. I am every hateful word they spat at me.
I am the thing they tried to kill and I. Will. Not. Die.
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glasswaters · 1 year
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i hope you remember this. i hope you stew in it. i hope you take your tooth-sharp tongue and dip it in liquid iron. sit with it, until it boils over and burns your lips where they touch. i hope you pull the sand from your eyes and worry at the scabs until they gape.
i hope you're ashamed.
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