@one-time-i-dreamt Of You 🍒

our body language conveyed  exactly what we wanted to say 'once more, for old times sake'

Dreamed I was swimming with fish, then I jumped out of the water and flew with the birds, then I fell and turned into a rock, then I grew into a tree.

"There is some inescapable part of me that yearns for you- and not just for your rough, cracked hands to lift my head by my intrusive chin and tell me that I'm handsome, or to run them down my arms and back up again, teasing me (encouraging me, even) to let go, and give in- but there's an element to me that flows through my body like sticky sweet blood that powers me, it moves me. And you know it.

You know that you drive me insane. I'm sorry that I can't give it all back to you. But you know that you have this ability to drive me wild and you manipulate it like you do me; every move is planned and has its purpose, like you're folding me into origami- a sitting duck, floating on a pool that's drenched in your aura, your fucking charm. You disgust me.

But, you rule me. I'm a slave to you. If you held my head down in that pool, I'd be blessed and rather then cry out "dear God, save me!" I'd only find the words to thank him for giving me what I've always wanted. You. I want you. Unfortunately for me, God has abandoned me- or at least he doesn't acknowledge me and that's more then I can say for you. Rather than be benevolent or silent, you torture me and you punish me for what I can have. I can have you- you know I can, otherwise you wouldn't abuse my affection so liberally, dragging me on, leaning in a little too close, whispering a little too soft, drawing my hand to yours and pressing it ever so slightly against your thigh- I could have you, if I wanted. And that's just the problem.

I don't want you. I don't, I don't, I don't. But I need you. You are a horrid person; I abhor myself for knowing that there is a capacity in me to fall so hard for someone that I'd call against my very nature. But you're also intoxicating. You've bewitched me; I'm drunk, I'm stoned. I'm poisoned. I long for your tongue to cross paths with mine- even if it means that you'll bite like the waiting asp you are and I'll die. But I'll die loving you.

You're so open about it. You openly sport your prey, your toys- when you're tired of them, they dissolve away into the background, and I've watched it. Women, they come and go- like a cycle of evaporation, they come, they dry- they leave. Women, you get rid of. But me...I'm different, because I am not one of them. I linger; I tell myself its because I am ice to you- I refuse to bend and show you how much it affects me, but I'm melting. Dripping. For you.

One day, I'm going to give in to you. This is my acceptance of defeat. I will never be able to resist you for much longer- but I wanted to have it stated, have it shouted, how much I bloody despise you despite the fact that you are all in the world that could ever make me happy. These words are my paper crane- a thousand of them, a thousand more never said and never written- and they are my deepest wishes. Come and claim me, whenever you are ready."

-siriuslyblackhearted

Your fingers grazed not only my hand, but my heart, that day in the spring. The bliss you brought soon after will be not forgotten, dear.

🙃 Regular reminder that while Hozier has amazing love songs, he is ALSO very outspoken about his leftist politics, specifically anti-fascism, anti-racism, reproductive rights, Palestinian rights and more.

Take Me To Church and Foreigner’s God are scathing critiques of organized religion, specifically the Catholic Church and the colonization of Ireland.

Moment’s Silence is about oral sex but it’s ALSO about how that specific sexual act is often distorted to a show of power rather than that of love.

Nina Cried Power is an homage to various (mostly Black) civil rights activists from the US and Ireland and a call to follow their path.

Be criticizes anti-migrant policies and Trump and his ilk.

Jackboot Jump is about the global wave of fascism and about protest and resistance.

Swan Upon Leda is about reproductive rights and the violent colonial oppression of Ireland and Palestine.

Eat Your Young is about the ruinous way the 1%/capitalism and arms dealers prioritize short-term profit over everything else to the detriment of the youth/99%

Butchered Tongue is about Irish and other indigenous languages being suppressed and erased by imperial powers.

If any of the above surprised you, please, please delve deeper into Hozier’s music, you’re missing such an important part of his work.

My lover asks me: "What is the difference between me and the sky?" The difference, my love, Is that when you laugh, I forget about the sky.

My mental health depends on an almost 2 meter tall Irish man who sings horny and/or depressing songs and loves Greek mythology.

I want to be with you behind the scenes, before coffee, before the sun, when your hair is a fright and your skin is still dented by the mattress seam. I want to touch you then, when you’re prickly and unshaven, when you’re half dressed, or less, when you’re unmade and distracted and every bit yourself. I want to see you getting yourself ready for others. I want to live in that place. I want to be with you, behind the scenes, knowing I’m not one of the others.

Peregrine (via youreyesblazeout)

Arabic dark academia

Having tea first thing in the morning, the afternoon, evening, night and whenever you have nothing to do and whenever you have everything to do

Practicing calligraphy, hoarding calligraphy pens and quills like a dragon hoards its jewels

Youre now a calligragon btw

Pretentious hand written letters

Fragments of poetry and prose on the wall

In Egypt you can buy a vintage gramophone (as far as I remember)

Wrinkling your nose at orientalists who have clearly never been anywhere near the culture they're trying to portray.

Appreciating the orientalists who have in fact been there and paint like it. (Sorry to disappoint but there were never sexy slave babes roaming the streets)

Mourning for the scholars of Al Andaluas and times when Arabic was the language of science

Arguing over e'arab (the value of a word with regard to others in the sentence) and balagha (it translates to "eloquence" but is more like a complex version of figures of speech) of words

Arabic being such a complex language you get carried away sometimes

Passing the allotted wordcount so you start going over your paper and compressing a whole sentence, consisting of a conjunction, a subject, a verb and two objects into a word in desperation

Words like فأسقيناكموه (faa'skainakumooh) meaning "and so we have let you drink it" being an example.

Tea over burning coal. Over logs (hatab) tea over bokhour/oud hits different and you know it.

Brewing coffee over low heat and humming to Layali Al Ouns

"No offense but I like real coffee" when someone mentions starbucks

Um Kulthoum and Asmahan are superior you cant change my mind.

NO I DID NOT FORGET ABDUL HALIM HAFEZ I WANTED HIM A BULLET OF HIS OWN.

Fareed al atrash concerts at 3 am.

Nothing you ever cook will be under seasoned.

Reciting poetry to yourself in the mirror

Big chunks of jewelry (usually gold) engraved or woven through with intricate patterns and swirls. Wearing four bracelets in one hand is absolutely fine and under dressing is a myth

Owning swords is not out of fashion (ancient arabs were well known for their swordsmanship) but using them is, unfortunately <3

Wondering how they won wars with these swords. I couldn't even lift it enough to stab myself if I wanted

Extra names. People called شهد honey (shahd), جمال beauty (jamal), زهرة flower (zahra), ليلى night (laila), سماء sky (samaa), مهند/سيف sword (mohanad/saif) and صفاء purity (safaa) like it's the most normal thing in the world (which it should be, along with names of ancient gods)

Poetry from the abbasid era describing palaces and fountains and music so eloquently your heart skips several beats and you wonder how it is still beating at all and if, after all, you have been born in the wrong era.

Classic poetry from the school of Apollo brimming with romance and yearning you have never seen matched.

Poems that tear at your heart and stitch it whole with every bayt (verse? The equivalent for it) and you keep coming back for more.

Stories so well told that you swear you can see the princes and charmers and musicians and dancers all flicker to life in the flames before you

Historical masjids and churches.

Going to the palaces and shrines and towers from the ancient days of yore

Not exclusively (as neither is anything on this list) arabic but BRAIDS and braid jewellery that clinks when you shake your head

The unwavering belief that poetry is meant to be sung.

Singing poetry because it is meant to be sung

Thick eyebrows

Lining already lash lined eyes with kohl.

Beautiful brown eyes. Honey eyes. Chocolate eyes. Freshly turned earth eyes. Eyes that hold all the ethereal beauty of the world.

Hair styled in dark, thick curls or braids

Savouring the way the words move around from your throat to your chest to the tip of your tongue, like liquid gold,

The sweet music from the strings of a qitharah (string instrument)

Scented candles are cute, but have you ever heard of oud (perfume infused wood)? Anyhow one of my Sudanese friends make it AND IT IS BEAUTIFUL.

Wanting to study with the scholars of baghdad and azhar so bad

Recognizing that for all your culture, some of it is inspired by others and that's okay.

Please add what you can to this list. It is far from complete.

Trying to fall in love is like trying to make your heart beat backwards. It can’t be done. I am already what you are. And so we don’t fall in love; we simply notice that we are in love already, and always have been. We don’t fall in love; it is the ‘we’, the ‘me’ and the ‘you’, the ‘inbetween’, that falls away in love, revealing the intimacy of our own absence. We are all so deeply in love that we don’t realise it.

Jeff Foster (via lazyyogi)