Scribbles And Doodles

"You are always allowed to leave. You were born free and wild and screaming, and no one owns you."

[literaryvein]

L. V., excerpts from the afterword

[exwife-of-frankenstein]

Youtube is full of ads, spotify is full of ads, tumblr is full of ads, pinterest is full of ads. Everything uses ai. Every new update makes the website/app worse. Youtube auto translates almost every video I want to watch. Sometimes pinterest only loads ads for me. Check out this new ai feature. Here's a new update that breaks ur laptop. Here's a new update that breaks ur phone. Why are u complaining about ur phone, just get the newest iphone lol. Join my patreon. Join my membership. Pay a monthly membership to get all features. Upgrade your membership to get even more features. Subscribe to netflix. Subscribe to disney. Subscribe to amazon. Subscribe to hulu. This content isn't available in ur country. This content was removed. This website was removed. This feature only exists for apple. This app only exists for apple. U need to a WiFi connection to play this game. U need an account. We need your email to finish creating this account. We need your number to finish creating your account. We need your id to finish creating your account. In order to delete your account please write an email. In order to delete your account you need a laptop. Oops our database was hacked and ur information was stolen. Ur data was sold from this random website u used once 10 years ago. Spam call. Spam call. Spam call.

[paradoxinpoetry]

Between the Lines

I won’t call.

I won’t send late-night texts or pretend we can still be something softer.

I won’t look for you in search bars or scroll through your photos just to feel that sting.

You won’t be the person I tell small news to,

or the one I turn to when I can’t sleep.

But somehow,

you still slip through.

In the tilt of a stranger’s smile,

in a voice that hits the same note as yours,

in the way a shadow falls across an empty chair.

And when certain songs find me,

I can almost feel the air shift,

as if you’ve just walked into the room.

You stay, quietly,

in places you shouldn’t

pressed between the pages of books I’ll never lend out,

threaded into the pauses between my sentences,

and tucked away,

always,

between the lines.

[wherethenightspeaks]

[echo-temporis]

The silk feels like a whisper on my skin tonight. It clings to me with the suffocating touch of a gentle hand that isn't here anymore. The bottle of your perfume on my dresser feels like an insult. It glares at me with its expensive air — a venomous thing that promises a scent I remember; a memory that now feels like a chemical burn. I pick up the wooden stake, the one I carved myself, and hold it. It’s not for you. It's for me. A blunt hope I drove into my own heart to stop the bleeding, to sever the pain at the root. Every breath is an apology I will never say. Every memory is a wound I can't un-live. You left and I had to slaughter the memory of us to survive.

~ inspired by @daily-prompts: Write a paragraph that contains these three things: a wooden stake, a bottle of expensive perfume, and a silk bathrobe. ~

[madmansmisc]

Pulled in two on a wild horse chase 

Blood on my hands and shame on my mind 

Such a little death to kill some time 

The city’s skin and bone and needs to bleed 

A world of Smith and Wesson and S & M

If it hurts it can live, bleed it and kill it 

Smoke me a cloud, back in time for breakfast

[weltenwellen]

Ada Limón, from “Calling Things What They Are”, The Hurting Kind

[sapphling]

hey dude, idk how much you remember from the party last night but- yeah, everyone saw your want. yeah no it was pretty late and winding down so it was quiet enough that every single person there saw it throbbing and twitching in your chest and so wet with hunger it was glistening under the kitchen light. they said it looked like it was reaching for something

[mus-muride]

Edward Gorey, vampires

[fuckyeahchinesegarden]

chinese garden in winter by ATM

[wedarkacademia]

Louise Glück's

[rosecrystal]

Louise Glück / Susan Sontag / Leslie Feinberg / Brenna Womer / Jeanette Winterson / Crimson Peak, co-written and directed by Guillermo del Toro (2015) / Marie Howe

[firstfullmoon]

Terrance Hayes, “The Same City”

[coyotish]

Art by Tuesday Riddell.

[mental-food]

Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.

-Kurt Vonnegut

[ur-daily-inspiration]

[iam-not-really-here]