2012-05-01 1:33:30 ¶ ●

2012-05-02 1:29:15 ¶ ● ⬈

swallowingmatches:

> 3
> You wonder what he’s thinking when he shivers like that.
> What can you tell me, what could you possibly
> tell me? Sure, it’s good to feel things, and if it hurts, we’re doing it
> to ourselves, or so the saying goes, but there should be
> a different music here. There should be just one safe place
> in the world, I mean
> this world. People get hurt here. People fall down and stay down and I don’t like
> the way the song goes.
> You, the moon. You, the road. You, the little flowers
> by the side of the road. You keep singing along to that song I hate. Stop singing.

2012-05-03 1:32:23 ¶ ●

2012-05-04 1:30:27 ¶ ●

2012-05-05 1:31:34 ¶ ● ⬈

2012-05-06 1:31:16 ¶ ●

2012-05-07 1:31:07 ¶ ●

2012-05-08 1:31:32 ¶ ● ⬈

2012-05-09 1:33:54 ¶ ●

2012-05-10 1:31:34 ¶ ●

2012-05-11 1:31:12 ¶ ● ⬈

2012-05-12 1:32:52 ¶ ●

2012-05-13 1:30:44 ¶ ●

2012-05-14 1:31:43 ¶ ● ⬀ ⬈

swallowingmatches:

> roadmusic:

> > line taken from “seaside improvisation” by richard siken.

(via balrogs)

2012-05-15 1:31:05 ¶ ●

2012-05-16 1:31:28 ¶ ●

2012-05-17 1:31:19 ¶ ●

2012-05-18 1:31:25 ¶ ●

2012-05-20 4:43:55 ¶ ●

2012-05-21 5:28:49 ¶ ● ⬈

brigantes:

> the dislocated room by richard siken

2012-05-22 1:30:27 ¶ ●

2012-05-23 1:32:32 ¶ ●

2012-05-24 1:31:53 ¶ ● ⬈

headswillrollbaby:

> Richard Siken in Crush.

> @headswillrollbaby | facebook.

2012-05-25 1:32:31 ¶ ●

2012-05-26 1:30:31 ¶ ●

2012-05-27 1:30:33 ¶ ● ⬈

clutterbuckets:

> ###### “History repeats itself. Somebody says this. History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters. History is a little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of. I know history. There are many names in history but none of them are ours.” - Richard Siken, ‘Little Beast’

2012-05-28 1:29:03 ¶ ●

2012-05-29 1:29:01 ¶ ●

2012-05-30 1:26:26 ¶ ● ⬈

secretinmyskin:

> ”(…) You’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”
> — Richard Siken

2012-05-31 1:24:24 ¶ ●

> You can’t get out of this one, Henry, you can’t get it out of me, and with this bullet

> lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because

> it’s all I have,

> because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your

> slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this

> bullet inside me”

Richard Siken