the yellow wallpaper (1892) - charlotte perkins gilman
"im going mental"

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the yellow wallpaper (1892) - charlotte perkins gilman
"im going mental"
i think i make myself upset
more than anything else
my hands are sticky as they shake
and i can’t seem to meet your gaze for more than a moment at a time
clumsy words tumble from between my chattering teeth
my tongue heavy and sloppy in my mouth
i’m trying for casual
is it working?
doesn’t feel like it
you look really nice
eyes sparkling and crinkling in the corners
smile wide and bright
just the way i remember
my head is light and my lungs can’t fill themselves
my heart murmurs your name the way it used to
whispers of a feeling i once carried so tenderly in my chest
echoes of fluttering behind my ribs
the thrum of my blood in my wrists
so achingly familiar in a way that i can’t escape
it lingers like your perfume in my nose
every time i see you again i only wish i could have kissed you goodbye
you offered me a bubblr but i don’t want the bubblr i want you i’m so not normal about this i’m so not casual about you god
i love queer people
all i do is go to work and think about the past
thinking about you thinking about your eyes and your mouth and the way you talk about fruit and the book you’re reading wanna listen to you talk forever the quirk of your lips when you hold back a laugh you baring your teeth when you let it slip full and free and real and i want your mouth on my mouth and my tongue on your teeth and i wanna hear what sounds you make if i trail my lips down your throat wanna hear you sigh and hum and feel your smile on mine when you drag me back up are you picking up what i’m putting down??
i have a headache :( can i lay in your lap while you run your fingers through my hair and whisper that you love me? pretty please??
think about you when i’m inebriated
wanna hold you and kiss you softly between your eyebrows
i get so clingy wine drunk
and i want you :(
oh god how i want you
i love having a tumblr blog that i post shitty poetry on that no one knows about
i miss her
hey, Moon? You are very pretty up there and i love you a lot
i want so badly,
it threatens to fall out of me.
the words are right there
crowding on my tongue,
contained only by my clenched teeth.
// j.c.b.
your hair brushes against my face
as we both fold in laughter,
and i feel like i’m blessed
by your golden fleece,
in all its dark curls.
// j.c.b.
I feel so pathetic asking for love. For the simple gift of being wanted, of being pined after. I wish to be taken out. I want to be proudly shown off. To be kissed softly and slowly, instead of just a quick peck for a joke. I wish to be held in the dark for hours. I hope for soft pet names to come from a lovers mouth with sweet reverence. For eyes to meet mine that are soft and tender. I wish to be worthy enough for it all.
wuthering heights (1847) - emily brontë
"she catherine on my heathcliff"
wuthering heights (1847), chapter IV
sometimes i think i’m too mean
she deserves someone kind and thoughtful
and i’m like a fucking chud
i’m like gum stuck to her shoe
soap scum coating her bath tub
oil build up on her wall
just sort of a nuisance
good for aesthetics maybe
but only the dirty gross kind
in those low budget indie movies
directed by pretentious art school students
i’m not even cool
i’m just
like
and she’s so
and i can’t
and it sucks a little bit