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Illusion, remember? People see what they want to see...

@illusionremember / illusionremember.tumblr.com

Tayber (ze/zem/zir, she/her, he/him) 35+ Queer AF Whatever you think I am, you're probably incorrect. ☆☆☆ I talk about stories a lot. Doing what I can to help. Censorship is Bad. Write Whatever You Want Forever. multimedia, multifandom, multi-interpretations, and multishipping ☆☆☆ See pinned post for details on general content, main tags & fandoms, and other online haunts.

Things two hungarian poets from the 1840s said to each other in their letters that make me crazy:

  • If my soul touches you and it happens to burn you I'm not to blame... it was you who lit it on fire
  • I swear to you on cottage cheese and tobacco
  • If the people rule in poetry, so will they rule in politics and that's the goal of the century! To hell with the aristocracy!
  • My dear buddy,
  • My soul, my bastard,
  • My golden mouthed saintly friend,
  • My rowdy brother,
  • My lovable dummy,
  • If you want to see a dead Pegasus, look no further than me
  • I am trying to learn to smile nicely ( he did not succeed)
  • My dear friend, you better side of my soul
  • I will never forgive you for NOT writing the address on the envelope yourself. A woman's handwriting... and a black seal... dear god, the devil took him! he worked himself to death writing poems, he died! ... and then i opened your letter... Never do this again. Only use black seal vax on your death, and even then, still write the address yourself!
  • I'm reading (your work) for the sixth time. It's really a horrible thing. I'll need to read it again to understand just how awful it is!
  • Sincerely, your friend whose balls are itching
  • It's really good that your sore throat is gone, I can finally strangle you
  • Leave the dedication! Veselényi is a great man but he's still a Lord, and a poet should never dedicate ANYTHING to a Lord
  • I'm hugging you a 1000000000000 times!

i hope the anonymous person who sent the "i used to live in your house. i'm drunk in boston and it's the only address i know. happy holidays" postcard is aware that they wrote my favourite poem

i’m blue-hot angry but still an apology sits on my tongue every other word sour and bitter like rotten fruit. like the days i was so thirsty i swallowed the milk  left forgotten on the counter all week.  like the nights i was so hungry i hunted beneath tree cover in the dark hoping  for the glint of bone-white to crunch between my teeth. 

sorry mom. sorry god. sorry my love and my love and my love and my love. sorry all the past i bit my tongue bloody and sorry for all the future where i cut my tongue out of my dirty mouth. sorry  i never did the right thing. sorry i hid. sorry  i ran. sorry i was lonely. sorry you had to  endure and endure and endure. sorry i was so unbearable when i didn’t know how to act anymore. sorry there was nothing to be proud of. 

i can’t forgive you for no longer picking up when i call. i can’t forgive you for not bothering to look and i can’t forgive you for covering yourself in sand. i can’t forgive you for making me endure  and endure and endure and endure and endure  and endure.

i’m blue-hot so our last words might be in anger but i’ll keep saying i’m sorry as the dead lights roll across the horizon. i’m sorry and i’m sorry and i’m sorry and i’m sorry and i’m— and i’m— and i’m—

time for sleep now. you should probably say goodnight. 

life really is just like. you meet people you love them and then you lose them and you never see them again. and it's inevitable and it happens to everyone and there's nothing you can do about it

richard siken quote. you know the one

people on here are always saying “we NEED a story where the art of storytelling is abandoned” like ugh literary devices are soo annoying like that wouldn’t happen in real life that only happened to further the story (why is there story in my story) why would orpheus turn around when he was explicitly told not to why would icarus fly so close to the sun romeo&juliet catcher in the rye why are they so earnest why pour your heart and soul into anything why bother why cant all art be quippy logical monotony like my marvel movies there’s a void in my heart bc i refused to fill it and the curtains were blue

“i hate poetry its so pretentious” but then you reblog a quote or a throwaway line and say “why does this go so hard” you are desperate for poetry you are starved for it and u dont even realise you’re hungry

A lit candle is a tiny, flickering animal standing on top of all the food it will eat in its lifetime.

A candle is a leash.

They let us tame an ancient, devouring force of nature, older than life, and stick it in a little jar on the shelf.

A candle is a pet god.

If you whisper a secret to a candle flame, then all fire everywhere will know that secret.

The words will crackle in every campfire and churn like an ocean deep in the belly of the Earth.

Fire will translate your words to smoke and ash, telling no one but the sky.

[poems from The Haunted Forest trilogy by Jarod K. Anderson]

The Ghosts Are Here

The Haunting of Hill House (1959) by Shirley Jackson // The Haunting (1963) dir. Robert Wise // The H Word: Bringing the Horror Home (2013) by Dale Bailey // Rebecca (1938) by Daphne du Maurier // In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (1998) by Neutral Milk Hotel // The Hours (2002) dir. Stephen Daldry

Maya C. Popa, from Wound is the Origin of Wonder: Poems: “Duress”

[Text ID: “Often, I’ve wanted, / not death, but disappearance, / evaporation, a bloodless self-banishment.”]

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