Sharks Don't Have Scales

Chloe.

Poet, fashion aficionado, Philly/Baltimore sports enthusiast, and eating disorder recovery advocate.

The ghost of Sylvia Plath speaks to me often.



Twitter: @chloestrix


155426 plays

Lorde - Yellow Flicker Beat

My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones.
It keeps my veins hot, the fires found a home in me.

(Source: mockingjaysource)

High-intensity noise that exceeds 95 decibels disrupts performance on complex tasks but improves it on simple, boring tasks — noise tends to raise arousal level, which can be useful when trying to stay alert during mindless and monotonous work, but can agitate you out of creative flow when immersed in the kind of work that requires deliberate, reflective thought… These effects, of course, are relative to one’s psychological constitution… Writers more afflicted with anxiety tend to be more disconcerted by noisy environments. Proust and Carlyle appear to have been among those writers — the former wrote in a cork-lined room to eliminate obtrusive sounds and the latter in a noiseproof chamber to ensure absolute silence — whereas Allen Ginsberg was known for being able to write anywhere, from trains to planes to parks.


marissacollections:

Suede & satin go hand in hand - these Manolo Blahnik Gorina pumps just arrived and we couldn’t be more obsessed!

marissacollections:

Suede & satin go hand in hand - these Manolo Blahnik Gorina pumps just arrived and we couldn’t be more obsessed!

If there is no feeling, there cannot be great art… You can only go with loves in this life.
Ray Bradbury, whom we lost 2 years ago today, on emotion vs. intelligence and the core of creativity  (via explore-blog)


mirnah:

Taylor Swift attended the 2014 Teen Choice Awards in a Novis Spring 2014 green and black tweed two-piece ensemble and paired her look with chic Charlotte Olympia ‘Admiral’ sandals.

mirnah:

Taylor Swift attended the 2014 Teen Choice Awards in a Novis Spring 2014 green and black tweed two-piece ensemble and paired her look with chic Charlotte Olympia ‘Admiral’ sandals.

Brenda Shaughnessy, “Parthenogenesis”

It’s easy to make more of myself by eating,
and sometimes easy’s the thing.

To be double-me, half the trouble
but not lonely.

Making cakes to celebrate any old day.
Eating too much: the emperor of being used.

Nature, mature and feminized,
naturalizes me naturally by creating

the feeling of being a natural woman,
like a sixteen-year-old getting knocked up

again. To solve that problem,
there’s the crispness of not eating,

a pane of glass with a bloody-edged
body, that is, having the baby at the prom

undetected and, in a trance of self-preservation,
throwing it away in the girls’ room trash.

Buried under paper towels, silent.
Nothing could be better, for the teenager.

For me, starving, that coreless, useful feeling,
is not making myself smaller

but making myself bigger, inside.
It’s prince and pauper both, it’s starving artist

and good model in one masterpiece.
It rhymes with marveling and that’s no accident.

Fullness is dullness. Dreaming’s too easy.
But sometimes I don’t care.

Sometimes I put in just the right amount,
but then I’m the worst kind of patsy, a chump

giving myself over to myself like a criminal
to the law, with nothing to show for it.

No reward, no news, no truth.
It’s too sad to be so ordinary every day.

Like some kind of employee.
Being told what to do. Chop off a finger

to plant in fertilizer (that is, in used animal
food), to grow a finger tree.

More fingers for me. Stop saying finger.
I’m the one in charge here.

Stop the madness and just eat the mirror.
Put it in sideways or crush it

into a powder. It doesn’t hurt and it works.
Mouth full, don’t talk.

Nothing to say. I’ll be a whole new person.
I’ll make her myself. Then we’ll walk away.

We’ll say to each other how she’s changed.
How we wouldn’t have recognized us.