chimneysweeping

I am assembled from the things we’ve left behind. The pieces of your personality that you lost when you grew up fell back into my arms. The tendencies you murdered to better or worsen yourself drifted and clung to me like butterflies. The old trends and interests you gradually forgot, came to me in search of a home. I am patchwork, a quilt from the leftover scraps of life of others, and I can keep you warm.

@9 months ago

So I just discovered this poem…any one have any thoughts on Porphyria’s Lover?

The rain set early in to-night,

The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

And did its worst to vex the lake:

I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Porphyria; straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

Which done, she rose, and from her form

Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

And laid her soiled gloves by, untied

Her hat and let the damp hair fall,

And, last, she sat down by my side

And called me. When no voice replied,

She put my arm about her waist,

And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,

Murmuring how she loved me — she

Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavour,

To set its struggling passion free

From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

And give herself to me for ever.

But passion sometimes would prevail,

Nor could to-night’s gay feast restrain

A sudden thought of one so pale

For love of her, and all in vain:

So, she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes

Happy and proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshipped me; surprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew

While I debated what to do.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

Perfectly pure and good: I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

In one long yellow string I wound

Three times her little throat around,

And strangled her. No pain felt she;

I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee,

I warily oped her lids: again

Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

About her neck; her cheek once more

Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:

I propped her head up as before,

Only, this time my shoulder bore

Her head, which droops upon it still:

The smiling rosy little head,

So glad it has its utmost will,

That all it scorned at once is fled,

And I, its love, am gained instead!

Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how

Her darling one wish would be heard.

And thus we sit together now,

And all night long we have not stirred,

And yet God has not said a word!

(Robert Browning)

@9 months ago

Candy says I’ve come to hate my body
and all that it requires in this world
Candy says I’d like to know completely
what others so discreetly talk about

(The Velvet Underground |♥| Candy Says)

@9 months ago

This sh*t happens way too often. Recovering from a near stroke that lasted an agonizing 10 hours.

@9 months ago

With the notice of what she was doing came the realization of what it meant, and I wondered if she too was afraid of things the way I had once been. I wondered if she too, put too much thought into simple little things, trying to be something she is incapable of being.

@9 months ago

You are filled with a hard aching love for how the world could be and always should be, but now is not.

@9 months ago

but all that we do, we do to ourselves and all that surrounds us was hand-picked by us too.

@9 months ago

The patterns outside correspond to the ones inside us. Birds’ wings are flitting to the same tempo that your heart is; the mothers in the park coo at the same frequency that your eyes do.

@9 months ago

This old room smells of that detestable love, regretful fondness.

This old house reeks of her sickly scent, is bloated with her tortured thoughts.

And whether she travels across the country, or no further than her own private hell, she will never leave this creaky mattress. She remains trapped with her head out the window and her feet firmly planted in her least favorite place.

She continues trying to discern which way out will allow her to keep most of herself, which way out will cause the least damage. That terrible lonely feeling in your gut is home to her, and that disgusting sadness in your eyes is pure comfort.

In the beginning, her hands shook from fear of the dangers, but they continue to shake to her last day, for fear of all that is behind her.

@9 months ago

nostalgic and yearning

for the warmth in a storm;

mostly content and always learning

to finally forget the norm

more than I would

or maybe could

without you - quite so noteworthy

My sorrows left behind covertly.

(4/12)

@9 months ago

where do i get these expectations?!

@9 months ago

Without you next to me, I toss and turn in my sleep.

@9 months ago

THINGS I NEED TO DO TOMORROW

Get up early

shower

Buy scissors -> make sweater bag thing.

Buy mosquito repellant

work out -> eat decently

school bs

YEAH

@9 months ago

so long, and goodnight.

I looked up from within my swelling, pleading heart and prayed that my facial expression would speak for me in the event of a clogged-with-emotion or otherwise absent voice.

@9 months ago