deadpoetsparacosm
dead poet's paracosm
For this moment, this one moment, we are together. I press you to me. Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. I sob, I sob.
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Villian origin: it, infact, did not pass...
#fleabag#it'll pass#phoebe waller bridge#andrew scott#it did not pass#it'll never pass it's been 4 years#WHEN WILL IT PASS#hot priest lied. it never passes
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“the point of kintsugi is to treat broken pieces and their repair as part of the history of an object”
David Mitchell // Hanif Abdurraqib // photo by @lakevida // @ashstfu // tiktok comment by @/muddafrigga // Miranda July // Pete Wentz // @jovialtorchlight // caption from Penny Reid [x]
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Neil Perry it seems l've grown quite fond of you tho there are no sexual urges or desires you come to me as a long lost friend whom I once picked apples with in papa's orchard 🍂
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i bet on losing dogs...
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there isn't any tenderness, it's fake: like god
there's just teeth and a wound
i told my mother if their wish to make me pursue medical succeeds, i'll never write ever again
and she laughed and congratulated me, told me to never write ever again: teeth
she knows how much i love to write: a wound
now i write, like it's cheap; vulgar; pathetic; and ugly: like being queer in the 80s
i hide it, i create a blog to place it to a world which doesn't want to feast on it
the world: a wolf
as a young woman, i let it tear me asunder in exchange for little love: sacrificial lamb like your mother
i weep for hours and hours and suddenly it starts to rain
no sun tomorrow, my soul starts to rot
it smells, it smells. it smells, mother.
so i write this, act of vandalism: prison is this house i was raised in
yearn to see the sky, feel the rain pouring on my eyes: captivation
not a moment i feel less paranoid, why did you terrorize me this way, mother? father?
i do not know what to say to you,
nor that you will ever listen: maybe it's my submission
11:11. Make a wish. Sham: like god
—dead poet, rooted but flowing
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