Scriabinist

Composers & Poets, Coexisting

my writing

055.

rrmcginnis:

Left today among
the dead writers
words my own.

As if
I mattered
I alphabetized

put me
between a
McAllister and

a McGraff —
two poets
long gone —

then stole a
Romanian immigrant’s poems
on Baton Rogue

and other places
I’ve never been.

Left alone
I’m terrible
and covetous.

ugh:

I live for typos in published books lmao

drewwilsonphoto:

one day you’ll forget about me. in fact you probably already have. you just haven’t realized it yet. you forgot about my breath in the morning or my glasses of wine at night. you forgot about union square and all the movies we watched. you forgot about what train we had to take or where we were even going. i will always remember how tolerable your breath was or how much of a lightweight you were. or that exact spot by the fence and how we only ever really sat through half the movies. i know one day soon I won’t even be as present as a scar to you. you’ll make your bed with sheets I’ve never laid on and you’ll drink your tea from a mug i’ve never made you coffee in. you’ll watch me fade like the ending of a movie or the last inches of daylight after a shitty sunset. like a birthday that went by too fast. no candles on the cake, no tears in your eyes. i will be nothing but the coffee rings on the table or the cigarette butts in the cracks on the sidewalk. i wish i was permanent. like times square in the daytime. or your split ends. but i’m only temporary to you. i’m only words and thoughts.

drewwilsonphoto:

one day you’ll forget about me. in fact you probably already have. you just haven’t realized it yet. you forgot about my breath in the morning or my glasses of wine at night. you forgot about union square and all the movies we watched. you forgot about what train we had to take or where we were even going. i will always remember how tolerable your breath was or how much of a lightweight you were. or that exact spot by the fence and how we only ever really sat through half the movies. i know one day soon I won’t even be as present as a scar to you. you’ll make your bed with sheets I’ve never laid on and you’ll drink your tea from a mug i’ve never made you coffee in. you’ll watch me fade like the ending of a movie or the last inches of daylight after a shitty sunset. like a birthday that went by too fast. no candles on the cake, no tears in your eyes. i will be nothing but the coffee rings on the table or the cigarette butts in the cracks on the sidewalk. i wish i was permanent. like times square in the daytime. or your split ends. but i’m only temporary to you. i’m only words and thoughts.

(via drewwilsonphoto)

humansofnewyork:

"Everyone thinks I’m anti-social just because I want to stay sober."

humansofnewyork:

"Everyone thinks I’m anti-social just because I want to stay sober."

fannypackpanda:

scriabinist is a friend of mine. I met him outside of a Set It Straight, Dangers, Comadre, and Don’t Trip show when I was 16 (I’m 23 now). I’ll protect his anonymity cause I’m sure he’d be upset if I told everyone who he was. He is a very solid dude and you should follow him though because he is V authentic.  

Thanks, brother.

damnyoulauren:

From the series Life and Love on the New York City Subway by Stanley Kubrick, 1946

  1. Couple playing footsies on a subway
  2. Woman waiting on a subway platform
  3. Men sleeping in a subway car
  4. Passengers in a subway car 
  5. People on escalators in a subway station

(Source: foxesinbreeches, via thatwhichweare)

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