“January is the month for dreaming” Jean Hersey

The window pane held her reflection like a sword and sliced through you, your blood, technicolor and full of rage, the rage of beauty, the beauty of violence, the violence of her cheek bones, the way her back arches, the way kingdoms fall for women like her, a planet of her eyes.

Once young and full of beauty, you now walk heavy, filled with ashes, you used to be a pretty boy, doe eyes, they'd fawn over you, a cherub, an angel, soon the world would crush you into dust and paint portraits of your could have beens from the pigment, neon, effervescent, dead.

These veins, nothing but lessons learned, the dissection of what happened, the light shines on my face for the first time and I can see the faces of the doctors, their eyes witnessing me for the first time, and how I was held tight until I took a breath, and never stopped crying.

To stand before her, to watch her dress and undress, to witness her bare and untouched, intoxicating in her nakedness, raw, grace in the flesh, tears form ever so softly in your eyes, she is so much better than you.

Sacrificial and turning into ice, the last dove at the end of the world cried out for its mother, alone once again, only the wind to realize direction, momentum, this invisible force controlling everything, stop. Storms chase rainbows, they don't tell you that. They hunt trees.

I was once a portrait of light, now I consume myself each shattered night, no one looks into the eyes of the fallen, it's far too dark to see anything... It traps light and tells fairytales and bounds with glee when we wake up to face the day, atonement is everywhere.

She is a beacon of light at a dead end street, the kind of liminal space that forces you to notice the tearing apart of the two worlds, the spiritual realm and the damned human race, destined to look for meaning where there is none.

I love you no matter what and by that I mean, if the world catches on fire I'm burning with you at the same exact time, if the world turns to stardust, I'm stardusting with you, broken and broken doesn't always equal whole, but you, you, I'm gonna die with, you're always with me.

The bouncing of the sky like a marble, this is what goes on in her head, sometimes the moon makes her cry, something about tides and the water inside of her, consuming her, an ocean trying to walk on land, a universe impossible to comprehend, she gives you such tastes of wonder.

Forgiveness is like the sea, you can drown in it or swim, sometimes you don't even have a choice, that's how drowning works most of the time, but I do know that however you arrive at forgiveness, it's the most important arrival of your life.

Nastassja Kinski ❤️ Tess 1979

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, and don't put up with people that are reckless with yours.

“My head is a hive of words that won’t settle” Virginia Woolf ❤️ Portrait by Julia Margaret Cameron Cover Artwork by Vanessa Bell

▲ The Sun ▲

Effervescence, the theory of the crows, how they swirl around her neck, a necklace or a noose depending on the calamity residing in the chaos, just to be resurrected again, to seek shelter in the placing of hands on one's heart and swearing allegiance to the triumphant dawn.