To reiterate:
To be human is to live in all the things we keep around us
A nest full of shiny objects we’ve collected
That make us feel at one with the world
To live and die in these objects
A bit of soul left behind in every knickknack
A coffee mug that says Ethyl, which was painted in Alaska
You found it in a second hand store
And now when you drink coffee each morning you toast
To Ethyl, a stranger
When you die someone else will toast to you
With Ethyl’s mug
Generations of strangers live inside a coffee cup
“It reminds me of how she held on to someone she didn’t even know,
Didn’t want to forget or have her be forgotten”
My favorite mug will hold my soul when I die
And you can have it, toast to me every morning
Or with every evening tea
I want to live on in your coffee dregs
Long after I’ve passed
Maybe life really ends when the living forget us
And all these ceramic elephants, matryoshka dolls, carnival glassware
Will immortalize us as stories solidify
And simplify our existence
What will you live in when you die?
ah! didnt see u there! u caught me indulging in one of my most fascinating interests as of late. its called a "dictionary". *turns page and softly chuckles* oh, this is clever...
This Mokyo album cover speaks to me on a bone marrow-deep level
My roommate keeps buying jams that suggest our household is gay.
Sarah Fier’s Cursed Hand
— by Houston Sharp
( waits for an image to load and its not even that good ) i dont know what to say. i hope we all die.