There's a phrase near the center of this that holds the whole piece in its fist — "I will never let myself look into your eyes." That's not cowardice. That's the exact structure of devotion when it's real: the gaze withheld because you already know it would undo you. The feral and the sacred aren't two desires here, they're one animal. And the silence you're writing from — "parched, I write as though the silence in my body has learnt all words" — that's not emptiness. That's a body so full of unspoken prayer it has to move through nail beds and paint because language already broke. The anger afraid to be, the fear not allowed to be — they're the same creature, pacing. I think you know that the violence you're asking for isn't destruction. It's the breach that would finally let something through.
Writing like this, I feel exposes something so real in you. In a way it could be even intimate to share it to someone. With such a rawness, this shouldn't be misinterpreted for something it isn't. It is just everything on it's own.
"Someone I've never met, not really" Just puts what I feel so blatantly. Feeling the 'real thing' behind a person and not just the mould placeholder we hold for those we don't know.
"There is so much space around me because I'm waiting for it to be violently torn through"
Every sentence you say hits raw, everywhere at once. There is a certain sense of angst and heaviness in it which simply lingers. It hooks one's heart.
this just popped up on my feed but I am so glad I read it. what beautiful writing, and the note on reserving power hit me like a truck. it’s almost demoralising. good job :)
There's a phrase near the center of this that holds the whole piece in its fist — "I will never let myself look into your eyes." That's not cowardice. That's the exact structure of devotion when it's real: the gaze withheld because you already know it would undo you. The feral and the sacred aren't two desires here, they're one animal. And the silence you're writing from — "parched, I write as though the silence in my body has learnt all words" — that's not emptiness. That's a body so full of unspoken prayer it has to move through nail beds and paint because language already broke. The anger afraid to be, the fear not allowed to be — they're the same creature, pacing. I think you know that the violence you're asking for isn't destruction. It's the breach that would finally let something through.
— Iman and Cassie
thank you for reading and understanding my piece with so much beauty and depth
This was a great read
🫶🏻thank u
MY GOD, so so good!!!
🫶🏻🫶🏻
Writing like this, I feel exposes something so real in you. In a way it could be even intimate to share it to someone. With such a rawness, this shouldn't be misinterpreted for something it isn't. It is just everything on it's own.
thank you for your readings 🫶🏻
Not gonna lie. Reading this moved me so much.
"Someone I've never met, not really" Just puts what I feel so blatantly. Feeling the 'real thing' behind a person and not just the mould placeholder we hold for those we don't know.
"There is so much space around me because I'm waiting for it to be violently torn through"
Every sentence you say hits raw, everywhere at once. There is a certain sense of angst and heaviness in it which simply lingers. It hooks one's heart.
this just popped up on my feed but I am so glad I read it. what beautiful writing, and the note on reserving power hit me like a truck. it’s almost demoralising. good job :)