introspectacles4

Illustrated journal excerpts, seeds of stories, wayward daydreams. Welcome to my paper garden.

In April:
I want to dance with sunlight, let the curtains billow with the wind from the wide-open window.
I will tangle with their white sunlit bodies, like ghosts, filling my room,
sway to the music of chirping birds and sunrise through watery trees.
The buds on the magnolias will be turning pale pink,
and the clouds will cast rope ladders
down from their ever-changing castles.
Birds will fly in through the open windows
and free the poems on the walls;
then, whistling wind & poetry,
they’ll make their nests somewhere far away,
leaving my room full of sunlit curtains
and the faintest scent of the sea.
—— autumn leaves in may // introspectacles (via introspectacles4)
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because the ghosts of branches

introspectacles4:

I feel very strange today.

                                                 ( tonight
                                                           this evening
                                                                      this sun-soaked afternoon )

as darkness falls,
light things
begin to take on
an unaccountable
luminosity

                                                           I will not drown the sunset
                                                with artificial lights.


i am searching myself today,
         and finding only hazy turquoise
                   water (a clouded ocean)

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New journal, new year :)

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after a rain

The rose is wilting on the sill・its papered petals fold into cloudlike shapes, smelling like sweet rot ・I climb the dark wood stairs, tea in my hand, thinking of white flowers・the curtains, filled with pale dreams, rustle & reach (filled with spirit, they lift)

Last night I woke at 5am・the room was filled with a silver-gray light・I was free of dreams just enough to whisper “Oh my god,” as the dawn held me・sang to me

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Myths wait for me in swamps, buried beneath the still, shallow water, blurry lights glowing from the roots of trees. Submerged leaves trail over them.

Pieces of unwritten myths: a world here, a character there. A spell. A place. A twisted heart.

In the corner of the pond, a human ribcage. Home to yellow birds.

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I grow increasingly convinced that the single greatest cure for ennui and inner agony is contact with one’s fellow humans.

Also, clouds. Contact with clouds is vital, too.

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(We found her tangled in the street wire.)
          (The storm-shaken world was dripping with rain.)
(Her back was a pair of open wounds, laced together by her spine.)
          (There was so much blood.)
(We never found the feathers.)
—— angel in the telephone wires
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introspectacles4:

“For whom did you allay your shyness?”

Lyric from “Kingfisher,” by Joanna Newsom.

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The leaves stick to the sidewalk, they are like beached fish. Raindrops have fallen into my eyes and now I see stars. (there are stars burning underneath the clouds) The fog on the window gives haloes to the streetlamps and the headlights, if I were to see you right now you’d have one too. Great moving mirrors collect in the drips in the grass and the spaces left by uprooted trees.
—— creatures with wings // introspectacles
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sometimes i feel like i’m stuck inside the page…

a face looking out, etched in pencil while everything around me is ink.

—— creatures with wings // introspectacles
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black nail polish

She’s got black nail polish. That’s the first thing I notice, because I’m looking at her hands. Chipped, and there are ghosts hiding in them, faint enough to be mistaken as a reflection of the light. They are ghosts of all the people she has tried to know and left behind, ghosts of the selves she tried on and then threw away. But they wouldn’t stay in the trash can, they came crawling back like worms wriggling out of the grass after a rain, and now they live in her fingernails.

Her hands are alive, fingers constantly twitching and tangling with one another, a ball of gillyweed, nails rubbing the tips of her fingers. When she can almost manage to trick herself into being comfortable they tap out imaginary rhythms on the desk, but most of the time they are nervous flutters, toying with her earrings, twisting in her hair, or clenching and unclenching against her thigh. You can tell there are stories she wants to write. She’s just too afraid that no one will like them, and even worse, that she won’t.

In her shadow you can see her demon, restless and writhing. She used to let it wind around her shoulders and whisper words into her ears but now she keeps it shackled to her toes, she doesn’t let it gain any more dimensions than the sidewalk. She realized that its words were not poetry and its whispers were maggots eating away at her heart. So she stopped. She found a candle to cast it into stark relief and holds it high to make the shadow low.

She wants to be the kind of girl who belongs floating away in the sky, her chin says that, the way it’s always tilted up looking for things other people don’t see. But sometimes her shadow gets loose and drags her underground again; her eyes tell that story, and her mouth. Sometimes the water fills up in her heart and lungs and she coughs until she cries, she tries to get the ocean out of her. The ocean that keeps putting out the stars. So she drops her eyes and walks away, back turned so you can’t see her hopeful eyes, she’s always looking at you like maybe, maybe you’ll have the spark, maybe you’re the one.

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I’m like a character in an abandoned book, getting bored with my own story.
—— creatures with wings // introspectacles
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READ ME

spill my thoughts across your skin

stain your fingers with my ink

my heart my blood

slice me open on the operating table

and I’ll whisper to you

through the tidal flow of breaths and the

inner murmurs of organs & flowing veins

about things beyond the sky.

things hidden just beyond its fabric.

you can lift a piece of it like a flap

if you could only find it.

(wanna try?)

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Some urt

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sit with your legs crossed in the center of the world and breathe in infinity
let starlight filter down into your mind, you are lit up in a spotlight, you are made
from these falling raindrops suspended like snowflakes, glistening like jewels. Like little bits of mirror that have shattered silently and fallen to earth in a moonbeam.
You’re made of particles, you know.
(look closely in the slanting Sunday morning light and maybe you can see your soul)
—— creatures with wings // introspectacles
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she was afraid of the dark so she only slept in day
and saw what the rest of us did not: the intense beauty of the chaos we try to hide from at night.

(we are made from chaos, it finds us in our sleep)

please, let me howl at the moon forever, if only it will keep me from the crushing stillness of day.

—— creatures with wings // introspectacles
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When she smiled, her eyes crinkled up so small they all but disappeared, focusing the light in them into a few green rays of light that beamed out wildly from her face and struck him. Her lips parted wide, revealing the gap where one of her front teeth was missing. “That’s brilliant,” she said, and he reeled. But it only lasted a moment: the mouth shut, the eyes grew still, and her expression returned to stone.
“How do you turn a statue into a princess?” he muttered.
“What?” One eyebrow cocked. She pursed her lips. A /fierce/ statue.
“Nothing,” he said, and walked away.
—— in case of thought // introspectacles
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Just as the bones, flesh, intestines, and blood vessels are enclosed in a skin that makes the sight of man endurable, so the agitations and passions of the soul are enveloped in vanity; it is the skin of the soul.
—— Friedrich Nietzsche
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This is the Ferris wheel in Odaiba, Tokyo.

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because the ghosts of branches

I feel very strange today.

                                                 ( tonight
                                                           this evening
                                                                      this sun-soaked afternoon )

as darkness falls,
light things
begin to take on
an unaccountable
luminosity

                                                           I will not drown the sunset
                                                with artificial lights.


i am searching myself today,
         and finding only hazy turquoise
                   water (a clouded ocean)

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