Goodbye Mrs B say Hello to Mrs Y on Flickr.
I am a book hard to read & I love being written under intoxication of emotions.
want to use my work in zines & such, ask me first thanks!
All words and artworks copyright Jill Emily Ache 2010 Ask me anything
want to use my work in zines & such, ask me first thanks!
All words and artworks copyright Jill Emily Ache 2010 Ask me anything
February 26, 2013
February 21, 2013
the thick syrup of bitter feathers caressing my skeleton
as I’m weighing less every minutes
As if I’m already on departure
with all my daemons underbreast
a biscuit path for my sugarless day
maybe I could believe again
Oh Holy pain of the dichotomic soul
I am sick of everything I have known heard believed thought
sick of everything that I know
everything I hear everyday
thank you for the quiet seconds
when my heart startle
Only in the dearest crash and burn of my ethereality(…)
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Helenina-S%C3%A2me-Photographie/133998520600?ref=hl
like me there so I can feel less lonely.whatever.
February 15, 2013
What I know of pain.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Helenina-S%C3%A2me-Photographie/133998520600?ref=hl
February 9, 2013
I keep cutting myself to feel the light that’s inside me
*****
A path of unwritten screams
a well of uncried tears
deep deep deep
It’s like a grave I’m discovering
a day after the other with the threads of everything that I bear
My wings are made of books but I never have the time to read
by the time I will have forgotten how to fly again
Yet there is a tiny feather on the windowsill
like a message
I keep cutting myself to feel the light that’s inside of me
I used to have mirror friends but all I can see is myself or so it seems
I can’t believe I am made of these ribbons
the path is muddy now like a swamp of dead red fishes
It seems like century I haven’t felt a beautiful yearning
she says sometimes that all I deserve is a final page
she gives me the scissors in the lonely days
she also offers some cherry tea
A black chariot full of dust
of all these dead butterflies like faerydust in my darkest night
Even Hecate says hi
in my darkest nights
I have never seen real like this
I am a bad seamstress so I live with my rags and holes
I keep cutting myself to feel the light that’s inside of me
I wish I could connect it to another spirit
before my darkest night
maybe it’s a day she says
maybe it will be a day(…)
February 9, 2013
Keep my Time as I’m killing yours I am my other self
February 9, 2013
smartgallery asked: Hello from Toronto, Jill you and your words are so beautiful - i love your solitary nature but wish I could share a tea with you. (I'm m, single, 40s), I write songs/lyrics and am a photographer as well, wonderful!
thank you for your kind words, solitude is beautiful and needed:) dereliction is hellish so I’m always glad to share some tea and words but I am far away from Toronto!
February 9, 2013
bestis-yet-tocome asked: Your photos and words are beautiful.... Beautiful.
thank you for kind words!
February 5, 2013
January 4, 2012
and I am only this & it s okay
a whirling bare and gleaming garland of incoherent and insane words
a swaying tree of growing, dying and blossoming poetry
a whirlpool with desperate lianas that want to embrace something close to humanity
a blank page woman with more heart than hurt to confess
Forever bleeding the juice of my soul ad libitum
and it’s never enough
Burried screams
silences all bent by the winds of my tormented nights
Emotional landslide
hush
we’re eating petals under suffocating bokeh
and it burns
impossible to spell the hell
January down my feet I will wait for the wisterian dreams
I don’t alleviate the thorny words with tape on my lips
I can’t see
I wish I could
but there are rain and mud in my sheet
fold the pages
see tiny explanation in the corner
in the darkness
and everything hurt when locked in
I wish I could
but I can’t see
I feel the roots of this absence
Transparent bare and frayed
I can’t see her
I can’t savour
There are only ghosts to hear the waves within
(…)
December 9, 2011
You arrive & I cringe everytime
everything that is so you reminds me that all I was is dead
I try to know why I keep my nails in your skin
my nightmares are so real
I can feel
You told me you taught me
the glare of what I should stop believing
since then I never stopped pretending
paper dolls all dressed in wordy lies
I have stopped believing in
I have stopped believing in
My nightmares taste like hatred and hell
there is no music
not even any of your stupid words
maybe some hints of bruised angers
I love it when she puts her hands on her ears
I wish everything could so easily disappear
just like when I’m underwater
absence is so still
my nights get uglier and my life is so dim
I have stopped believing in
I have stopped believing in
that’s why
that’s the reason
and I wish I were still a blank page
You don’t believe and you are ashamed(…)
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