

I say “i hope youre doing okay” when i know youre not, but i tell you what i wish i could tell myself.
“Black skies of metal. Pale and mournful.”— Georg Trakl, tr. by Will Stone, from To The Silenced: Poems; “Winter Dusk,”
my toxic trait : i hurt in silence and pray that someone loves me enough to notice i’m not being myself
Ingeborg Bachmann, from In the Storm of Roses: Selected Poems; “Fog Land,” wr. c. 1956