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@librahun

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the only way out is through

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Koncert muzyki do filmu „Chłopi” @l.u.c.official @rebelbabel @dagadana @zpit_szczecinianie 🤍 Dzięki za ten dzień taken in Filharmonia im. Mieczysława Karłowicza w Szczecinie by @librahun

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3 years ago

no poem this time, enough poetry on the photos. taken in Gstaad, Switzerland by @librahun

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a month ago

exceptionally good at letting go
it used to be,
tight hands on the handles and not releasing powdery brown-white moth beating its head against the kitchen windows
as a child, i anchored myself like a sickness. i pushed out roots so deep only a detonation could dig them out. when i was taken from one house to the next, they dragged behind me, a raw nerve yanking my chin violently backward. back to the beach, back to the sea, back to the cold tiles, unneccesary rooms, lost keys, purple walls, legs dangling from the fourth-story windowsill
now i am severed,
no roots, just petals
and it seems like it’s me who’s the moth that i kept inside so long, just because i thought it was beautiful by @librahun

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a month ago

i’m gonna eat all of the stars
nothing will fall on the night sky anymore and nobody will make a wish about getting a new refrigerator or going back to their first love or being cured from a clinical disease
no, no, no
do i look like my hunger for the universe is smaller than this
do you see how my left thigh shakes when i ask you a question
do you notice how i stutter
salivating all over
parts of you already stuck in my braces
when i open my void mouth
galaxy drowns between my teeth
i’ll ask you to caress my neck while i chew on infinite and bite your hand off

how much i hate the finalities
only you know
chewing chewing chewing on everything won’t ever end
so i’ll eat the whole world by @librahun

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2 months ago

swipe for a poem… or not. you’re a free spirit by @librahun

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4 months ago

look down the angel’s altar body, watch their knees
calloused into stone from endless prayer
look at mine, patterned by the living,
sand, crushed sea shells, a flower on the collarbone
look at you by @librahun

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4 months ago

when life is beautiful, it is

in my hair rests a dried bloom of a flower stolen from a bouquet, given by someone who loved me once
i wear a dress that graced somebody’s mother twenty years ago,
while my own mother’s thin gold chain sleeps warm at my throat
beside it hangs another, brushing the skin of my collarbone - a keepsake of a viking village where i wandered with my sister,
and the ring so tight on my finger, feeding on my pulse, once sat perfected on the hand of a swedish lady
even my hair waves and twists just as my dad’s once did -
do you know, sometimes my tongue slips, and i speak the words you’ve told me?
i sever a sentence in half and remember your face
it stares back at me, looking so much like mine,
for we are all the same but different,
light reflectors,
mirrors
my body came from a body that came from a body that came from a body that came from a body by @librahun

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5 months ago

banish the doubt 🌸 taken in New York City by @librahun

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6 months ago

🩵🦎 taken in Barcelona, España by @librahun

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7 months ago

returning to the sea.

the pure clatter of the engine. the 45 tons of my wagon. I straighten my neck at the sight of the port, the yacht I chose as “mine” drifts incessantly in the waters, still not “mine”.

everyone leaves the train.

the seagulls
the undying curse
as a child, I was indifferent to their brutal screeching
the child’s cheek buried in the pillow, deaf to the outside noise
now anathema
signaling the wound
opening it

a great beast of a bird soars into the sky, a rumor crushed between its beak.

I visit my mother.
for an hour we are alone. I try to lean my heavy head on her arm, because maybe this is what daughter does with her mother. I feel tentacles slowly growing on my head — I feel that I should feel fine. I have been the alien. I am the alien. I remain alien.
does she sense me? does she feel as uncomfortable as I do? should I touch her?
I don’t stop. I seek what used to be. and I think it used to be like this. her skin smells human and slightly vanilla. her tan feels warm and I sink in her soft velvet like she has no bones in her body.
then, he arrives. and she is different. light beams of her ambered eye. accompanied by a man, different than usual. there’s always someone else. but this was the first to put a stone on her finger, and within minutes of presence, calls her „my little fish” five times. he calls her “honey” two times. and “love” once.

does she like it?

I can see her confusion. she’s as ashamed as a little girl.
has she been waiting 50 years for tenderness?
her nose wrinkles sweetly, like a spring cherry. she flies away and lands on a soft spot with every word he speaks. he is a natural. his sleeves of tattoos don’t apologise to no one and I know he votes for the right, though he shows signs of humanity when he listens to my witcher speech.
is he pretending, only because he loves her?
what a strange thing, to look at someone in love.

take care of my dog. by @librahun

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10 months ago

I have a thing about strays 🐈‍⬛… by @librahun

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a year ago

is that all there is? by @librahun

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a year ago