i like irish poetry. i like knowing a man called tadhg ó ruaic, fl. 1684, lost a game of cards to a girl called blánaid on purpose because he wanted her to top him
you penetrate my weak defence / teasing me with anxious love / i know the score; my turn to play / against your side i make my move … blánaid, my dear, my favourite one / gentle, fragrant, guileless love / it’s time for you to trump my man / and ‘take’ me with a daring move … come sit beside me, woman of the wavy hair / embrace me, bright branch of the cool grey eyes / resolve my torment, generous-gentle woman / and ‘take’ me quickly to your merciful bed
extract translated from the classical gaelic by derek mahon
Sometimes I hyperfocus so hard on something, I forget I’m a person until someone interacts with me. I feel like some wild animal seeing a human being for the first time. I’m like “oh yeah I’m supposed to speak and stuff”
Me: *doing something for hours on end without stopping*
Someone: Hey, are you there? I was just wondering if you’d like to-
you made me feel like you loved me even when you don’t. it was just enough for me, ignoring reality for a dream. though the wool was thin, it sat snug against my eyes, nonetheless. i could sculpt it in my mind change the script, rewrite, evolve the ammonite, tell myself you’ve been kind. a switch has flipped, though, you’re different than what i know you don’t make me feel like you love me it’s no longer worth breaking bones.
And my heart saw exactly what it wanted to see As my mind was exiled to the cold periphery of a screaming muteness
