boryrory - a small shrub.
a small shrub.

I cry a lot.

179 posts

The Entire Point Of Life Is To Be Silly, Kind, And Really Weird Btw.

the entire point of life is to be silly, kind, and really weird btw.

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More Posts from Boryrory

2 years ago

still obsessed with how joel was just a pocket full of dad powered sunshine in the first half of the episode. he was like my demons? those bitches have been exorcised it’s time to be silly and goofy. I’m suddenly capable of talking about my feelings. look I found that ravioli u like. let’s actually stop here on the side of the highway and play boggle. my face is a little sore bc I’m relearning how to smile but it’s worth it. honestly in an au where the fireflies weren’t at the lab I bet he would have suggested they keep walking to california so they could have a beach day

2 years ago
Here, the world is perpetual March, / and we love a dog as if that’s the only thing we can do, as if // death cannot touch this slice of New England, the trees / growing a canopy of shade just for us. // Yesterday, we strapped the smallest life jacket / to her furry body, took her swimming for the first time. // We watched her paddle from the shore to the center of the lake, / then back again until she grew tired. And last night // while we argued about things that won’t / matter in a month, he was still petting the puppy’s wet head, // and I cried like I’d never known a kindness / so pure and gentle as that, as a pat on the head // for doing nothing but existing. I wouldn’t / call this jealousy, but there is no word // in my human tongue that seems appropriate. / It’s the feeling of all the stones I swallowed in my youth // growing  jagged in my belly. And I scratch / the surface of my skin with any sharp thing // I can find to cut them out.

Diannely Antigua, from “Training”

2 years ago
I Feel Feelings

i feel feelings

2 years ago
boryrory - a small shrub.

🍓🐹🌿

2 years ago

Nighttime Begins with a Line by Pablo Neruda

by Yusef Komunyakaa

So my body went on growing, by night, went on pleading & singing to the earth I was born to be woven back into: Love, let me see if I can’t sink my roots deeper into you, your minerals & water, your leaf-rot & gold, telling & un- telling of the oldest tales inscribed on wind-carved rocks, silt & grass, your song & prayers, your oaths & myths, your nights & days in one unending lament, your luminous swarm of wet kisses & stings, your spleen and mind, your outrageous forgetting & remembrance, your ghosts & rebirths, your thunder stones & mushrooms, & your kind loss of memory.