ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴀɴ.⁽ ʰ ᶦ ᵃ ᵗ ᵘ ˢ ⁾

[sacrauri-archive-blog1]

I,      MYSELF,      AM    W A R .           my  body,      the  burning  walls  of  troy     ;     my  heartbeat  the  RAMS  HORN  bleating  in  joshua’s  great  hand. 

I,      MYSELF,      AM  SWEET    destruction.          my  body  burned  to  ash      ;      to  perfumed  SMOKE  drifting  in  honeyed  libations  to  a  hollow  god. 

[cerceos-deactivated20160308]

[timotaychalamet]

Une femme est une femme (1961) dir. Jean-Luc Godard

[coldbitten]

uncomfortable, not unkind : question drips from once - muzzled lips, burns through the silence like acid   (   don't look into my e y e s ; you will only see DAMNATION  ) .      ❛  is the shape of your moustache a choice or ——

@moustachioedcasanova

[coldbitten]

          cataclysmic turn'd piteous : cast from olympus, left to weep into tender flesh   (   war coats his skin like bittersweet honey, thick & unpleasant — r e v e n g e comes not in HEAVINESS, but in agonising lightness   )       ❛ i— it hurts— st— i——

@firstavcngcr​

[ohperalta-deactivated20160819]

gardens of versailles, 2016

[coldbitten]

              riot - ridden / rotting meets tender solace, pleasant warmth   (   it had once been uncomfortable, to touch another, for w r e t c h e d fingertips brought naught but wretched ends    ) .       her wrist is small ; still, he does not worry about breaking it   (  she is MARBLE & GOLD  ) .      ❛  i am grateful to you, y'know ?

@stillbclieves​

[coldbitten]

              (   O ORPHEUS !      beauty'd cast betrayal 'pon your lips, turn'd the milk of your hymns / ballads into vinegar, turn'd dear eyes sour   )       armageddon scraped 'neath bloodied fingernails, HE DEVOURS — boy, do you know the difference between saving the world and burning it ?     ❛  we don't have much time.

@keptsecrett

[achillles]

He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles (via wiildcat)

[coldbitten]

hey !! hey !! hey !! guess who’s got only just over a month left of school !! this boy !! what i’m getting at is that i’m not allowing myself to be on tumblr as much as i want to because i need to get some real good results if i want to get into my dream uni, so please bear with me for one more month !!

[natalieweepoetry]

i. clench your teeth. so the world has been cruel to you. so breathing is going to feel like swallowing dirt. you were born with the Orion’s belt across your ribs so you’d remember everything looks darkest when you're the brightest star. ii. stop hating yourself. you are atlas. you carried the world on your back and your bones along with it. you crawled out of that river. you fell in love again, again, again and the only person who never left was you.  iii. age doesn’t matter. you have a lifespan of about eighty years. nobody knows what’s happening in the first of a four-book series. forget rome, you’re building a universe. you’re going to make it, kid, but you’ve gotta breathe. iv. survival isn’t easy. kindness is something only you can give yourself. you can’t see it right now, but you’re very important, and the world needs you. you walked through that fire to get yourself here. you rode the dragon and saved your own life.

reminders // natalie wee  (via alleyspat)

[coldbitten]

               PAST INAMORATA, once sacrosanct, born from vile womb & risen from foul dust   (  sin beats within her breast / divinity courses through her veins — OH, THE IRONY !  ) .      war - haired persephone ; not eurydice, whom slipped from orpheus' foolish fingertips and down down down to hell — no, for amongst bloodshed she is not victim, but queen .      & he, devout follower, grants her wishes   (  to he, the line is fine, between damnation & divinity ; for her, he'd take atlas' place and call it a BLESSING  — good thing metal no longer weighs down his shoulders  ) . 

            ❛  this is new . BREAKFAST . ❜      massacre - heavy'd lungs divulge gentle breath, rot-free / unsullied / pure — glory - gore fingers 'came halved, and those which remain have not shook hands with lady death .      ❛  we've never done this before, have we ?      not like this, i mean .      casually . ❜      slow shrug, careful   (  he does not wish to shake the earth, cause early A P O C A L Y P S E ) . 

                     ❛  we should probably talk about this — US . ❜

@widovv​      //      cont.               

[coldbitten]

nutsaboutbirds.

❛   that’s a real joke  .  nice to know you’ve got your sense of humor back  .   ❜

      ❛  sense of humor — ?   never heard of such a thing  .   it must not have been around back in the 40s  .

[timotaychalamet]

The Edge of Love (2008) dir. John Maybury

[coldbitten]

nutsaboutbirds.

 ❛  we’re saving your ass,  y’do get that,  right ?  kinda means you have to be nice to me  .  just a lil’  .  ❜

        ❛  hm  — ?   ‘ve been nothing but nice t’you, pal.   it’s you who’s got some real attitude issues.

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I always have such need to merely talk to you. Even when I have nothing to talk about – with you I just seem to go right ahead and sort of invent it. I invent it for you. Because I never seem to run out of tenderness for you and because I need to feel you near. Excuse the bad writing and excuse the emotional overflow. What I mean to say, perhaps, is that, in a way, I am never empty of you; not for a moment, an instant, a single second.

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West (via swingmeyourbones)

[coldbitten]

bredtokilll.

               Breathing is ragged, small body feeling heavier then ever, weighing her down. The girl is slouched pathetically, half propped against the rough surface of the alley wall, head lolling to the side – if it weren’t for the rising && falling of her chest, one might mistake her for a corpse ; a corpse covered in GORE. It wasn’t all hers though, && if she was in bad shape the agents she’d narrowly escaped had been nothing short of decimated. 

                    Stray hadn’t known they were Hydra until she’d caught a glimpse of rounded metal clutched in one of their hands && memories of shock collars meant to deter her power use flashed through her mind. Everything after that was little more then a blur ( she remembers one squad member suddenly being aflame, the smell of burning flesh stinging her nose as gun shots ring out, one catching her in the shoulder, another whizzing by her face. ‘ Don’t kill her you idiot ! ‘ comes an angry voice, && then the faint reply of ‘ Fuck orders ! I’m not dyin’ here ! ‘ before she feels the hot spray of blood across her face, a body dropping && soon to be met with company ). She’s lucky she hadn’t brought the whole block down – but she HAD left a trail of crimson as she fled as far as her wounds would allow from the horrific scene. A trail that someone had apparently managed to follow. 

                     ❝    D-don’t           don’t come a-any closer. Stay away. G-GO away !   ❞ 

             vex had tugged at frozen corners, placated only at blood’s sight — he had taken notice of commotion, distant yet too closefor comfort, but had wisely turned the other cheek   (  he’d been a good man, once, back when the world was kinder & the winters not as cold  — harsh winter’d buried kindness, prioritised SURVIVAL above all else ), had hid from perceived threat.   still, he lets natural shadow conceal his figure & INSPECTS   (  curiosity’d killed the cat, but the cat did not have a metal arm  ), for he holds carnage within his breast, feels drawn to bloodshed like kind rainfall to parched soil.

                OH, AND WHAT BLOODSHED IT WAS !   death coats unassuming concrete, holding no elegance, beauty, within its grip   (  is there ever beauty in death ?   young juliet had kept the rosiness of life within ample cheeks & rosebud lips, but her death had been caught but counterfeit ).   but it is not lady death whose sin-sharpen’d nails he feels scrape at his blood-starved throat   ( those carved from apocalypse feel but indifference ‘pon the sight of ARMAGEDDON ) — it is the nine-headed beast which wraps itself around him & constricts 'till he’s left struggling for breath, breathe, breathe.   he follows the trail of blood in his haze, animal instinct, only stops at ragged screams imploring compliance.

                               ❛  why were they after you ?

               (  it is not a question, but a command : A N S W E R  M E  )