kore.

connoisseur of coffee and desolation ||unusually sappy || reader || blue poet || “making a lark of the misery” | 25 |

[k0resworld]

Japanese literature is a breath of fresh air, as it questions your reality, existence, and thought process in the most emotionally profound way.

[thedeadpoetsraven]

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙? 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒.

— Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

[wrathofachilleus]

you can kill a man, but not what he stands for

[wedarkacademia]

Yeah now we've entered the back pain stage

[thelostfilesofstudents]

[shakespearesdaughters]

[gael-garcia]

Portrait d’une Paresseuse (from Seven Women, Seven Sins 1986) by Chantal Akerman

[reader-twisted]

[thedeadpoetsraven]

I heard a bird sing

In the dark of December.

A magical thing

And sweet to remember.

We are nearer to Spring

Than we were in September,

I heard a bird sing

In the dark of December.

— Oliver Herford

[havingapoemwithyou]

a small-sized mystery by Jane Hirshfield

[glitterpennotes]

"Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it's all a male fantasy: that you're strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren't catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you're unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur"

margaret atwood

hey guys this one is often on my mind i am not sure if I have shared it on here or not but. margaret atwood!

[mournfulroses]

Forugh Farrokhzad, from Let Us Believe In the Beginning of the Cold Season; "Sin,"

[bebx]

[metamorphesque]

— Rainer Maria Rilke, Were You Not Always Distracted

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’

[text id: my fist has always been clenched around the handle of an invisible suitcase. / i am always ready to leave. / there is not a single room in this world where i belong.]

[cultofthewyrm]

MEDUSA by ★ Yona ★

[dark-romantics]