my heart aches like some ugly thing, pointless hopefulness somehow hurts worse than no possibility at all
1 note
·
View note
cringy edgelord art
1K notes
·
View notes
wow man you’re so will toledo, alex g, bugs, rot, religious trauma, dog motif, canine poetry pilled
678 notes
·
View notes
crane wives go crazy
912 notes
·
View notes
"I'm just a dog with no bite" ok? what if I'm a dog with a bite history? what if I'm the dog who bit and left marks every time someone tried to leave? what if I'm the dog who looks scary but all I need is someone who will have the courage to love me?
708 notes
·
View notes
I WISH THAT I’D BEEN BRAVE.
richard siken, crush // christopher healy, a hero’s guide to saving your kingdom // the amazing devil, ruin // j.d. salinger, raise the high roof beam // susan sontag, as consciousness is harnessed to flesh: journals and notebooks // claudia rankine, don’t let me be lonely: an american lyric // the avett brothers, i wish i was // frank bidart, the war of vaslav nijinsky // nicola toon, everything, everything
5K notes
·
View notes
Ew radfems are reblogging my posts. Op is a tranny faggot, now get the fuck off my blog
1 note
·
View note
Anne Carson, from Grief lessons: Four plays by Euripides.
3K notes
·
View notes
Fadwa Tuqan, tr. by Mohammed Sawaie, from Tent Generations: Palestinian Poems; “At Allenby Bridge”
[Text ID: “Yes, my humanness bleeds, my heart / drips rancor, my blood is poison and fire.”]
3K notes
·
View notes
[ plain text: I carry my grief the same way I do the floorboards from the house I grew up in. A part of me bigger than myself. A part of me that I can never replace with more of me. ]
6 notes
·
View notes
on the cruelness of fifteen
@/petrichara // the shape of a girl, joan macleod // @/cowboyvamplikeme // fifteen, taylor swift
6K notes
·
View notes
Fortesa Latifi, from The Truth About Grief.
91K notes
·
View notes
0 notes
“Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there,I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.”
Clare Harner.
15 notes
·
View notes