Something's haunting me from within
With teeth, claws, and an evil grin.
Unlike what the movies show
Mine doesn't mess with lights and photos.
I don't live in a haunted house,
Nor do I own the dybbuk box.
So why am I troubled when I try to sleep?
Why is my sanity so hard to keep?
Do you know what's even peculiar?
It's how much all this feels familiar!
They've been living within me all this while
Things I shoved down and never reconciled.
My brain can be a surpassing mess
Make the entire horror genre seem witless.
Because I don't live in a haunted house
Nor do I own the dybbuk box
But do you hear a girl constantly weep?
Until I finally fall asleep.
Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus: First Part (XXV) (tr. J.B. Leishman)
When my memory of you seems to fade
And I ask, "Who are we?"
Read to me
The letters I wrote for you
Tell me the stories behind them
When my memory of you seems to fade
Play me our favorite songs
And sing me ours
Remind me about our love
The way you have always reminded me
When my memory of you seems to fade
And I don't recognize you
Remind me of,
The evening that rained like the world was ending
Ask me 36 questions
Look me in the eye and demand the 4 minutes I rain-checked on.
When my memory of you seems to fade
And I flinch away from your touch
Hold my hand in yours tighter
Let the warmth of your hand
Unfreeze my memories of you that I dearly cherish.
when I started reading the grisha trilogy i was all for darklina because of all the shit I’d seen about mal and the darkling on the internet
like I’d been fully led to believe that mal was this bland 2d and controlling character in the trilogy but then my man came out with line like this
and
or
how about
and THIS
and this is just a few lines from ruin & rising
seriously? I was supposed to be shipping my girl alina with emo darkles when hunk MALYEN ‘MALEWIFE’ ORETSEV was right there? PLEASE
*looking at a post i made like minutes ago*
"what the fuck was i on how did i write it like that"
SCRIBBLE AND SCRATCH
With a cup of tea, a pen, and my book
I sat to write at my favorite nook.
Head filled with voices trying to get out,
And a heart humming with tunes of doubt.
I scribble, and scratch then my words fade,
As I suppress the thoughts that make me afraid.
So I go back to the books that give me relief.
To find my answers within someone else's grief.
There are many problems within these books.
And in that world, solutions aren't mine to look
Within worn-out, annotated, and yellow pages,
I forget my fright as I did for ages.
Soon I'm drawn back to my nook
Holding on to empty pages of the notebook
I scribble, and scratch but the words don't fade
For I've let my thoughts out of its shade.
Happy Ides of March !!!!
when stephen chbosky wrote "we accept the love we think we deserve" and hanya yanagihara wrote "x = x, he thinks. x = x, x = x."
FLOWERS AND SCARS
The flowers you once gave
Are now my bookmarks.
Dried and black,
Yet somehow artful.
Like the scars, you left behind
To bookmark
The person I was, and have become.
Dried and black,
Yet somehow hurtful.
(13.11.20)