Aes. SHE WEARS A SMILE LIKE A LOADED GUN. - Tumblr Posts

t.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋?     subtleties,  lora  mathis  //  plainwater:  essays  and  poetry,  carole  maso  //  brutal,  olivia  rodrigo  //  boygenius,  souvenir  //  a  pink  wool  knitted  dress,  ted  hughes

Till Death (2021) dir. S.K. Dale

SHAKESPEARE  AESTHETICS

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎  &  𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐓     suburban  july.    scraped  knees.     bruised  knuckles.  blood  in  your  teeth.     bare  feet  on  hot  concrete.   restlessness.   your high school’s empty parking lot.     love  poems  in  your  diary.       a window open to coax in the breeze.   burning inside. an  ill - fitting  party  dress.    a t - shirt you cut up yourself.    the  time  you  tried  to  give  yourself  bangs.    biking  to  your  friends  house.    bubble  gum.  gas station ice.   the feeling that you’ve met before.     rebellion.  a  car  radio  playing  down  the  street.   cheap  fireworks.    a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades.  red  solo  cups.  dancing  in  your  bedroom.   screaming yourself hoarse.     running  out  of  options.   the  forlorn  looking  basketball  hoop  at  the  end  of  a  cul - de - sac.  climbing  onto  your  roof  at  night  while  your  parents  are  asleep.   flip - flops.   a eulogy written of loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐓       speaking  in  a  whisper.   holding  your  breath.  a  browning  garden.    a  half  remembered  story. furniture  covered  with  sheets.   fog  at  dawn,  mist  at  twilight. losing  touch.  the  ethereal  space  between  winter  and  spring.  the  soft  skin  at  your  temple. the  crack in the hallway mirror.  things you’d say if you knew the words.    uncombed hair.   books  with  writing  in  the  margins.  books  with  cracked  spines.  books  with  lines  scratched  out.   prayers  on  all  souls’  day.  a  chipped  ceramic  bathtub.  a  cold  stone  floor.     the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the  sparrow  that  got  in  your  house.  shadows.   the  creek  you  played  in  as  a  child. a  dirty  night  gown. an  oversized t - shirt.   a collection of your favorite words.     soil  beneath  your  nails.   ghost  stories.   the strangeness of your own name in  your mouth.      deep silence.    exhaustion.    a  cliff  with  a  long,  long  drop  down.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓     wicker  deck  furniture.  new  england  summer. large  sunglasses  and  a  blonde  bob. a  storm  over  the  ocean. patio  umbrellas  flapping  in  the  wind.  the  smell  of  chlorine.   muffled laughter.    sarcasm.    starched  cuffs.   day  drinking. bay  windows.  the  idea  of  love.  love  for  the  idea  of  love.   love  for  love’s  sake.     hangovers.      wandering  over  the  sand  dunes.  a  vagabond  with  a  guitar.   fishermen  with  tattoos.  a  pretty  boy  with  a  slacked  tie.  a  lighthouse.  growing  too  close.  boat  shoes.     feeling  yourself  change.     big,  floppy  sunhats.     double - speak. a song you keep listening to.   turning red under their gaze.     margaritas  drank  on  an  inflatable  pool  lounger. string  lights  on  a  balmy  night.    .  sleepy june days. fights  you’re  unprepared  for.  hope  you  weren’t  expecting.     pranks  that  go  too  far.    bad  poetry.   pining.   becoming less of a stranger.

𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇       the space where your grief used to be.  a  bird  that’s  lost  an  eye.    old  blood  stains.   heavy  blinds.    the  smell  of  sweat.  the  stillness  after  a  battle.    a fake smile.    a  curse.     the taste of metal at the back of your tongue.    your house,  unfamiliar in the dark.   a  dusty  crib.  the  smell  of  sulfur.    an  orange  pill  bottle.  streaks  in  the  sink.  a   black  cocktail  dress.     your hand on the doorknob, shaking.   a  chilly  breeze.crunching  from  the  gravel  driveway  on  a  moonless  night.   clenched hands.     a rusty swing set.    a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00.   a  snake  that  crosses  your  path.   an  owl  that  watches  you.  a  dog  that  runs  when  you  approach.   red  smoke, dark  clouds.   cool steel.    tile floors.   footsteps in the hallway late at night. a  baggy  suit  that  used  to  fit  before.     visions.   insomnia headaches.     nursery  rhymes. being  too  far  in  to  go  back  now.

𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆     the  high  drama  of  small  towns.     a pickup truck.    military supply duffel bags in the hall.   hugs  all  around.  tulip  bulbs.    a  wraparound  porch.    a  pitcher  of  iced  tea.    a  rubber  halloween  mask.     someone  on  your  level.    ill - timed  proclamations.     stomach clenching laughter.     rushing  in.  not  minding  your  business.  crepe  paper.   white lies.    secrets written down and thrown away.    southern  hospitality.  homemade  curtains in  the  kitchen.  a  sink  full  of  roses.    hiding  in  the  bushes.     old friends.    the  wedding  dress  your  grandma  wore,  and  her  mama  before  her.    a  dog - eared  rhyming  dictionary.   chamomile  with  honey.   the  intimacy  of  big  parties.  lawn  flamingos.  gossip.  a  crowded  church.  friendly  rivalries.  unfriendly  rivalries.  shit getting real.    love  at  five  hundredth  sight.     not realizing  you’re home until you’re there.

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑   cement  block  buildings.  power  lines  that  birds  never  perch  on. the  end  of  the  world.  useless  words.    rainless  thunder,  heat  lighting, a  too  big  sky.     arthritic  knuckles.  broken  glass.  chalk  cliffs.    the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes.    something you learned too late.   wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk.    a cold stare.  empty  picture  frames. empty  prayers.   the obscenity of seeing  your parents cry.     a  treeless  landscape.  bloody  rags. grappling  in  the  dark  with  reaching  hands.   the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth.   the  blown  out  windows  of  a  skeletal  house. decay.    jokes that aren’t jokes.   biting your tongue.   prophecies.     aching  muscles,  tired  feet.   stinging rain.    invoking  the  gods.  wondering  if  the  gods  are  listening.  worrying  that  the  gods  are  dead. white  noise.  shivers.  numbness.   the unequivocal feeling of ending.

𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌    the  smell  of  wet  soil  and  dead  leaves.  listening  to  music  on  headphones  with  your  eyes  closed.  wildflowers.  the  distant  sparkle  of  lightning  bugs. a  pill  someone  slipped  you.   fear  that  turns  into  excitement. excitement  that  turns  to  frenzy.   mossy  tree  trunks.  a   pair  of  yellow  eyes  in  the  darkness. night  swimming.     moonlight  through  the  leaves.     a  bass  beat  in  your  chest.     a  butterfly  landing  on  your  nose.  a  kiss  from  a  stranger.  a  dark  hallow  in  an  old  tree.  glow  in  the  dark  paint. drinking  on  an  empty  stomach. a  twig  breaking  behind  you. spinning  until  you’re  dizzy.  finding  glitter  on  your  body  and  not  remembering  where  it  came  from.  an  overgrown  path  through  the  woods.  cool  dew  on  your  skin. a  dream  that  fades  with  waking.  moths  drawn  to  the  light.     giving  yourself  over,  completely.  afterglow.  the  long,  loving,  velvety  night.

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