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thinking about Kait Rokowski writing, "nothing ever ends poetically, it ends and we turn it into poetry. all that blood was never once beautiful. it was just red." and losing it

The way this quote slips through my ribcage and strangles my heart

A song so dank, it’s almost blank.

Broken pieces put back together, glitches remain forever.

This lone world, couldn’t be much cold,

Without you closer to my skin, dead is what I should have been.

Sometimes I feel it’s better this way, suffer in silence and just don’t say.

Maniac thoughts and foolish persistence, much less pointless existence.

None can know the pain I feel, for it is me that it’s making me kneel.

A song so dank, it’s almost blank.

Forever is a petty word baby, for it can whenever turn into maybe.

Imagine the worst that you can imagine, because in the end, lost stories always win.

Who are you to play these lines, look at your heart and hear it’s whines.

Sure you thought you had it all, but in the end, you saw it all fall.

Who’s to say this is the end anyway, feelings don’t change, come what may.

It doesn’t last, it never lasts, and it’s that much hard to say it’s in the past.

A song so dank, it’s almost blank.

Love is a complicated word you say, you fell right into it anyway.

And don’t blame the fall sweetheart, for it will fix you as much as you break apart.

Don’t blame the one who didn’t stay. Who knows the future anyway.

However mad be the thought of never letting go, never ever say no.

Because that is what will save you baby, from all the things you think “maybe”.

Love won’t save you nor will that person, but darling you’ll have a reason.

To live the way you thought you never would, with the thought of someone who made it good.

A song so dank, it’s almost blank.

@vyshnvy

everytime i come back to tumblr it feels like ive opened a long forgotten beautiful book

like i quite literally have never been more passionate about anything than i am about the human race’s invariable desire to tell stories and the fact that we always find a way to do it, through spoken language and written language and body language and visual art and theater and poetry and oral tradition and a million other things. there are so many things we take for granted about the human experience that we never stop to think about but i really want you to take a step back and consider how fucking amazing it is that our need to tell stories transcends all boundaries of time and geography and borders and language. it is one of very few things that is legitimately intrinsic to human nature and i will never stop being completely in awe of humanity for that.

So,

This is based around 19th century,

Im a just a son of this well known, rich person. And i go to a ball with couple of my companions (like Pride and Prejudice).

So i was standing beside the dancing area...

I saw, this really astonishing, most wonderfull, beautiful lady i saw (even in IRL). Presumably i was handsome, i invited this lady for a dance. (Why not?) And after that i didnt even know when 2 hours passed, dancing with her. She has these really deep brown eyes, sparkling with lights of candles and all the lights around us. the dress, blue like ocean or a sky. Her hair, mud-colored and her fragrance, all these things to die for. We kept dancing & dancing i was with her and she was with me, but i was mostly in her eyes, browsing through her emotions like, pain, sorrow, oppression and repayment. But i ignored them and kept dancing. i was also ignoring the faded view of surrounding at that time i can only see us, only us. I thought the red stains her blue oceanic dress was just a mere mirage. As i kept dancing she too seemed like she was fading and i was struggling to clinge to her last reflection. I closed my eyes, thinking that its just an illusion, hoping that everything will become back as while i was in her eyes. I opened my eyes but all i could see was that bright, effervescent chandelier, just like her earrings

fuck hustle culture i love not doing anything. i love not getting out of bed i love being late i love not working when im at work and i love watching time dissapear like it’s afraid of me

Judge me all you want, when I become a writer you’ll know. I’m not leaving this world without making an imprint on it. Mark my words.

dark academia ask game!

the secret history 🏛: how close are you and your group of friends? how far would you all go to protect each other? how many languages do you speak?

if we were villains 🎭: are you into theatre? who’s your favourite shakespeare character? would you or do you smoke weed or cigarettes?

dead poets society 🖋: do you prefer poetry or prose? do you get along with your parents? do you resist authority or do you deal well with it?

kill your darlings ⏳: would you consider yourself an intelligent person? have you ever fallen in love with someone who wasn’t right for you? tradition or innovation?

homer 📖: is it more important to be brave or to be kind? do you like to read?

cigarette 🚬: what is your worst habit? do you like drinking? do you party a lot?

leaf 🍁: what is your favourite season? what is your favourite comfort food?

vermont ❄️: would you ever go to school far away from your family? are you scared of losing the people close to you?

wine 🍷: how far would you go to help yourself? what about to help other people? do you think humans are inherently selfish?

piano 🎹: what’s your favourite musical genre? do you play any instruments? who’s your favourite artist?

whiskey 🥃: tell us about your first kiss. what quality would make you reject someone who asked you out?

murder 🔪: are you capable of getting very angry? what are you most afraid of? what would be the worst way to die?

Rainy days ♡