Will be back soon :)
Call me Recci, Marie, Rayla or 성. | Kid | Filipina | UP Manila Development Studies student | A chocoholic w/ a book, a broomstick, the back of a hand sliding on white keys & the fear of falling | I define Wanderlust | Jo has named me: SpellEye59
Blueberries in My Pocket
Poetry is a second life. I run parallel to myself. I am the soldier’s knees on the battlefield. [I am] the kissed girl watching her lover walk away. I am as hungry as God. I am the gate in the whitewashed home for wayward mothers. I try to write about lynching and stare at my own wrist. I miscarry in a bedroom in St. Louis. I sit in Plato’s cave in love. I am the window smasher, the trucker, Descartes. I am the trapped pigeon, frantic against the wall. I am all of these, I am none of these. Words are the sack I shove it all into, and it expands to shape the given moment, the poem trying to exist in me, without me.Eve Jones (via weissewiese)