Edmond-monet - Dying Vicariously - Tumblr Blog

was it not enough that you stole

my heart, my lungs, and spine?

i do not have the stomach for it anymore.

I stood dead at a grave that was not mine

a friend of a friend long since gone, though

killing me only now.

grief is as death,

is as life,

is as humanity.

we mourn the empirical fastenings

of those who came before

most now dead and buried in swill;

beheaded

as they had their time, so shall I

as they loved, so shall I

as they died in a thousand ways,

fractals spinning through space

through the human mind

eternally soaring in mist and

touching heaven for but a moment

before all, all is lost

and down they fall into the black

window of obscurity;

so shall I.

hii ik we don’t interact much, but i just want to say that i love seeing u pop up in my notifs !

i also really love ur poetry. i totally resonate w the emotions being conveyed :^) please don’t ever stop writing !!! <3

❤️ aww, thank you! the support is really appreciated! much love to you as well!!

Gouache 🎨

i know what i want now

i didn’t before

i want cold mornings and leaves that crunch under our feet.

I want warm blankets.

I want a house in the woods.

I want clean air and sunshine and my own means of living.

a hand to hold, someone to confide in

I want to be loved; but I most of all,

I want to be loved by you.

I used to think you were a smart man

now I’m not so sure

in fact

I think you told us several times

when I was younger

that you were anything but

you scared me too much to test that

I hope the people who live in our old house

look at the dent in the freezer

that you nearly broke your foot making

because you wished you could have done

it to me instead

and wonder how it got there

and soon enough they will discover

the lines I scratched into the wood

into the walls

little traces of anger

it fills every support beam,

every wall,

every floorboard like rot

spreading

consuming

devouring

There are so many terrible things in the world and I refuse to let myself become one of them

(Nov. 11)

(Nov. 11)

I think I shall never forget the first time

seeing my mother’s new name

on a package with mine

I think she is getting better.

so am I.

We're going to be adapting Carmilla!

Stay tuned to hear the trailer on the Re: Dracula feed in a week, or join our patreon and listen right now! Since we're funding the miniseries via patreon, there will be lots of perks and early access audio for supporters. Production will take place in 2024, once we've fully wrapped Re: Dracula!

“i’m sorry,” I whisper desperately.

i’m sorry for feeling too much.

I’m sorry that it spills out of me uncontrolled, violently.

i’m sorry I was never handled gently.

i’m sorry nobody ever taught me what love is.

something is rotting.

the smell pervades the house, wafting through the halls, seeping under the doorframes.

it’s subtle at first. easy to ignore. i turn on a fan and soon enough I’ve gone noseblind.

it’s been three days. I found a little mouse dead on the floor. it’s small. too small.

the smell gets worse. the fan is on all the time now. I put perfume under my nose to block it out. eventually, I grow numb.

a week. there is no escaping it. I have looked everywhere. it has stained all my clothes. It is here, somewhere, the source of it.

it has been months. I cannot leave. I am weak. it affects me constantly.

something is rotting.

it is me. it has always been me.

The Winter, Alexandre Calame, 1851

have a cat.

Roses, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

sometimes,

I fear,

I feel too much.

EVERY TIME I LOOK BACK, MY CHILDHOOD GROWS HORNS; ON AGING.

lorde // iasoup on tumblr // alain de botton // jenny slate // katie maria // silas denver melvin // chelsea wolfe

-despite everything, there is still love

@arthoesunshine/ @artsheila/ @daisies-on-a-cup/ @gayarsonist / @hjarta/ @yunawinter on twitter/ @bakwaaas/ @death-born-aphrodite/ anon on gentleearth/ @classicnymph on twitter

I know he loves me because he's breathing the same air as me, if he didn't love me, he wouldn't be breathing.

pictures where the sea and sky are no longer distinguishable

how do i prolong love?

it’s as if I poured gasoline on my heart

lit it up

and expected it not to burn out in an instant.

I want the kind of love that smolders,

the kind that may not be passionate,

but ever present, ever warm, ever burning.

come lie with me in the embers, dearest.

we can curl up on the coals

and burn together.

With @staff 's recent post saying 1/4 of this site is LGBTQ going around, I'd like to see what the actual demographic is

So!

Please reblog for bigger sample size!

Dirt road Polna droga