[gethelpliv]

returning to my motherland (tumblr) as an orphan (none of my mutuals gaf) after having fought in war (instagram) to noone in particular, but oh the air here fills my nostrils the same way i imagine cocaine would.

[remanence-of-love]

[exitwound]

Girl you need to get out of bed faster than this

[lesbianredpanda]

I'm giving it all she's got boss

[timetravellingkitty]

Reblog to drop kick Colleen Hoover

[divorcedzukka]

characters whose philosophy is “if i cannot be wanted, i will be needed and if i cannot be needed, let me be used until there’s nothing left of me.” thank you for everyone’s attention. falls off stage and dies

[cheeto-flavoured-pasta]

You will not use AI to get ideas for your story. You will lie on the floor and have wretched visions like god intended

[shisasan]

August 5, 1926 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 3]

[alivingtypo]

you can pry starting sentences with 'and' or 'but' out of my cold, dead hands

[today-till-tomorrow]

op how does it feel to be the most correct person on earth

[gethelpliv]

Cut my skin open

Let me lay on you

Swallow anything that'll touch it slow

Two branches that grow too close

Let me lay on you

Listen to your blood pulse

Let mine spill over you

Like a tree that grows too close

I'll hold you

If i let you grow over me, oh love

Can we hide away from the logger's picaroons?

Would you, oh could you please stay just so?

Till a shot of sun pours in through your tinted windows

Till that usual little burst of light that nauseates me so

brushes up against our skins

Till the birds awaken once again to sing that horrid secret song of their's

That haunting taunt ive been aware of since i was six

Till the rustle of those leaves drags me out of my bed

Like a clock ticking back to a regret for this breath that is perhaps inherent

For somehow the silvers of the dark that grip onto me from above these walls

Walls that i wonder if are tall enough for a soul snatching momentum

Those strings are now tangled between your fingers

A fortune that threatens a loss cold as a corpse

For the morning sun is simply warm now

That song, it isnt as awful anymore

The rustling of those leaves now sounds like the yard of the first house id known to be home.

[gethelpliv]

im not even exaggerating when i say that ever since i got a 1pm- 11pm job the first four hours of my day are spent with me trying to cope with the fact that i exist

[weltenwellen]

 Andrea Gibson, You Better Be Lightning

[apathy-filled-deactivated202502]

Myself on the first place

i always thought i wanted people to love me, i always thought i wanted a best friend who would stay by my side and protect me. but now that people love me i realized that i can’t love them back. i just can’t. i don’t like texting, talking, spending time with someone. i want to be alone. me myself and i.

-apathy

[gethelpliv]

puppeteer puppeteer

wearin your tattered cloak sheer

whats beneath it though

are you covered in dust

did the sugar turn into snow

tugging on all

tugging until the strings break lose

claw onto every lose end that falls

are your bones cold and your blood a sour ruse?

tell you what

show me all that is beyond the shore

broadcasted on concrete

contradicting all that you preach

puppeteer puppeteer

madman's little dear

tugging from behind the show

fifteen tricks from beneath your sleeves you thrust

tugging till you have coins your own

a glass box and its glass doll

did you want to show them something they'd choose?

is it the madhouse thats having you prawl

are you out of shabby lawns to prune?, splinters through your ripped shoes

will they stay for the second slot ?

were the tickets worth when the audience was keeping a score?

puppeteer puppeteer

what is it that drove you here?

[impunishedbylove]

fake idgafer, i saw you yearning

[writing-prompt-s]

A famous prompt: Describe a barn as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war. Do not mention the son, or war, or death. Do not mention the man who does the seeing.

[gethelpliv]

Nineteen flies between the palms. The bright sun hits the dry grass, too bright, wrongly so. the world is quiet and so should be the wind that's blowing too simply. the rooster didn't crow this morning, there wasn't one left to. theres hardly anything left of this place besides the goat and the mildly rotting wood. It's surprising how you wouldnt have noticed how much the red paint's faded away with time, its sickening how it fades more in contrast to the dirt that lays before it. The ground's soaked, not in a manner that would make it easier to dig. in the corner besides the hay sits the rusty shovel, the best equipment there is, "put me to use" mocking the silence. silence, the kind that tosses screeches at your chest on the backs of these flies that've long found the stench. filthy palms filled with little wings, the sun's not bright anymore, the moon's awakened, a waning cresent. perhaps the shovel shall be lighter in this dimness; or perhaps counting flies till the next waning shall save me the pain.

[gethelpliv]

Your father exerted his violence on others. Your mother was sympathetic to the suffering of others. One day you directed the violence you had inherited toward yourself. You dished it out like your father and you took it like your mother.

Ėdouard Levè

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

– Audrey Hepburn