Last Seen Blogs
Photo
Hello. Here’s another new commission just completed. It was fantastic to do ( they all are!) and challenging because it includes a Virginia Opossum (not native to the U.K.) The Commissioner has entitled it:“Once Upon a Time, The Moon Dreamt He Was a Kite” . I think it’s a brilliant title, and suits the image so well. Hope you like it… #fairytale #moon #etsy #etsyseller
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
The song nocturn by Kate Bush makes me want to stand waist deep in the pacific ocean on a Tuesday night, completely naked, with a girl I’ve just met, or maybe always known. We face each other. We love each other’s nakedness and vulnerability. No one is here. We drive to the beach, it’s late-late. She calls me halfway through the night. She tells me, I’M COMING. She drives. Or i drive. Night-drunk and love-drunk, giddy with the sensation of not being found, we drive anywhere. We drive on the highway, through those unearthly hills, street lights lighting her face. we don’t know how we get to the ocean but here we are. we run into the ocean. she takes off all her clothes, and then I do, slowly. Drunk on the vulnerability I’m giving her. she understands me. and we touch, a little, a lot. in that vast expanse of molecules that connects us to every other point in the world. that connects us to things that are otherworldly, too. the horizon. rising and rising. the sun comes up on us sitting in my car. salt clinging to us, in our hair, intimacy coloring our faces. two girls, looking for beauty together, finding beauty together.
1 note
·
View note
Text
around this time, around 3:36 pm when the world outside is muted, when my room feels darkest, more shadowy than the windy wetness, with its soft gray light stopping just short of my two windows with dead tree limbs waving in solemn greeting to the passerby.
a lone bench sits outside on the grass, caught halfway between glass jars, laundry lines, linens and the concrete asphalt raindrops slamming and feet tapping and engines growling. wet wood, i want to go to you, welcoming this day, damp with the weight of memories and solitude.
oh solitude, wooden bench, dead trees, thick air I want to reach out and touch you. oh wet stone running into wet grass, bleeding with wet concrete and wet wood, wet bodies and the remnants of so many summers, how long will you allow my presence here? how much dampness can my body hold before it swells, bursts like bullfrogs, in what world, this one or another, can solitude be borne in such large doses?
0 notes
Text
your hands on my ribs
fading bruised feeling. in your
bed, broken and healed.
1 note
·
View note
Text
hold me
i can't go home
control me
I'll do what you want
0 notes
Text
Water
In my dreams I come to you like the rain,
pulsing through my fingers into gardens
of so many prayers. Lover, please pardon
my clumsy hands. I try to sleep in vain,
You brush away my insecurities,
You answer with the slap of flesh on flesh
in a student housing apartment, fresh
with January possibilities.
In darkness you pulled down my pants and said
“Let me go,” my name an oration
on your lips (or was it condemnation),
and my body became a riverbed.
I am inside you now, swaying gently.
You told me I came to you like a tide.
When I left, the water rose, and besides
inside anyone, you breathe differently.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
We just met
And I know I'm a bit too intimate
But something huge is coming up
And we're both included
It takes courage to enjoy it
The hardcore and the gentle
Big time sensuality
I don't know my future after this weekend
And I don't want to
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
in my dreams I come to you like rain
soft hazy night and
electricity rain,
pulsing through my fingers into a garden of
so many prayers.
there were questions I had that got lost, questions that didn't matter anyways,
there were questions answered by the slap of flesh on flesh on roommates bed in brownshingle apartment,
stripped down and undressed like a cross-eyed
stranger.
...
questions answered in
the cave where you pulled down my pants
and said "let me show you what I can do"
my name like a prayer on your lips
(or was it a condemnation)
And I come to you
And I come in you
And you, body a verdant plain that I sow
I am inside you now
And besides
inside anyone, one breathes
A little differently.
You came on me once too,
(do you still associate me with the rain darling?)
0 notes
Text
and i knew when i entered her i was
moaning wind in his rolling hills i was
rivers through his spine, snaking deep, silent
forked tongue tasting burnt air
tasting the air howling into my entrances
through lungs of pain
and i came
face to face with my own
thick canopy of leaves, with my own
animals, mice and lions, free and in such
high places.
lover, breathe me in.
let me linger in this place two minutes longer, let me
become this landscape, mold to you, to your crevices and
when I enter you
i will come lashing through your valleys.
1 note
·
View note
Text
The only tragedy is that, while we can want to be two different places at once with all our selves, we cannot be two places at once. And a little corner of your heart will always be gaping, and open, even while the rest is full.
And sometimes, when I’m alone, it feels like the walls are closing in.
1 note
·
View note
Text
I mean after having sex once a week or more for 1.5 years it makes sense that I am so desperate right now after having had sex once in almost 4 months
1 note
·
View note
Text
Your heart felt good
It was drippin’ pitch and made of wood.
And your hands and knees
Felt cold and wet on the grass to me.
Well, outside naked, shiverin’ looking blue, from the cold
Sunlight that’s reflected off the moon.
Baby cum angels fly around you
Reminding you we used to be three and not just two.
And that’s how the world began.
And that’s how the world will end.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
4:10 on a saturday afternoon is such a good time for emotional angst. I have no idea who i am and i only know what ive been and maybe i have to accept that there is no one true liana and thats ok.
But Jesus, where do I go from there?
Adrift- Tycho.
I was child liana –> scared liana –> trying liana –>
fading liana –>
healing liana –> beautiful and alone liana –> sexual liana fighting to love herself liana –>
drugs liana, bruises liana, fuck me liana, slap me liana, cigarettes liana, stop eating liana –> manic in control liana, tottering on the brink of complete ruin liana –> boi liana, andro liana, queer liana, keep starving yourself liana –> letting someone into herself liana –>
comfortably numb liana –> less manic liana, less pain liana, less alone liana, less contol liana –> adulting liana, glowing liana –>
helpless liana. liana, but newer. is she straight or queer? is she poly or mono? is she male or female? is she boyish or womanly? is she capable of connection? is she worth a second look on the street, in the dark basement, on the train?
Awake Liana. For now.
Let it wash over you and don’t be afraid.
You will throw your soul out to the masses, the thousands of faceless people you would have shared you life with, if only, if only, if only you had been someone else.
you will live in your memories, this is why you are a writer, this is what makes you who you are. your facing backwards means you can look inside yourself and not be afraid, there is no such thing as afraid when you are living in the past and the present.
And when you get there to the center, what do you find?
What do you find?
you are naked. for everyone.
2 notes
·
View notes
