“I try not to wonder, try not to beguile myself, crucify me on an upside down hill if I ever beguile you. Were I a merit? did I have meaning? Anorexia, Anxiety, Anti depressants. Forgive me for no A.”

🥀

🥀

(Not sure if this is poem, Journal entry or an extract from a novel I’ve written) but it’s mine and it’s raw.

Melancholic poet academia

Drinking excessive amounts of black coffee to numb the hunger for anything but hearts solitary. Staining your hands with ink, overwhelmed either all the thoughts you have to turn into poems, afternoons in second hand book stores, multiple medias for writing, resides in the fictional world, reciting tragedies for pets or antiquities in your room. Pomegranates will be the closest you’ll ever come to a heart.

If you adore pomegranates, withered roses, literature, poetry, writing, books, typewriter poetry, Greek mythology, Greek tragedies.

This is where I write

My body doesn’t love me anymore.

I bleed and for that I am to be grateful

It’s coagulated and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

You don’t get rid of depression.

Depression gets rid of you

- MissNovember

-my own writing

I am fire forced to go across ice and I am ice forced to burn in your flames

”remember this fundamental truth”

Return of winter is return of me

🥀

Vivamus, moriendum est

🥀

She loved me for the dangers I had passed,

And I loved her that she did pity them.