perpetually drifting away

thoughts, poetry, quotes, pictures

[moonlight-petal]

wordle song 9/3

tree branch swords, i stay on guard

playing games in the backyard

you push me down the hill again

i wish this day would never end

we go up north to our cabin bunks

the faded paint is enough for us

and i’m still there though those days are gone

faintly laughing, awake til dawn

[mothprincess]

— Marina, Purge the Poison 

[text ID: Earth is like a white rose, quiet cloud of petals cold / A place so corrupt where angel flesh and blood is sold]

[yearningheart]

I feel so frightened of being hurt – not of the suffering, which I know I can handle, but the indignity of suffering, the indignity of being open to it.

– Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

[mythicrealms]

[holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe]

“What I count on is the dark. The light. Wanting to live anyway. The river in my teeth and the reasonable grass under my feet like someone I loved once, impossibly alive.”

— And What If I Spoke of the Hours, Chelsea Dingman

[expressions-of-nature]

Iceland by Ivan Kurmyshov

[firstfullmoon]

“But the wolves have ways of arriving at your own hearthside. We try and try but sometimes we cannot keep them out.”

— Angela Carter, “The Company of Wolves” | The Bloody Chamber (via abandonarium)

[darkearthsuggestions]

no field is the same; no rain falls even; do not judge your crop by the height of your stalks or the blights or the blooms– measure instead by days spent bent over soil, the words you whispered when you could not weed, apologising and encouraging your sprouts to spring nonetheless– the time you spent in sunlight, arms open as plant leaves unfurled, and the smile on your face, the satisfaction of toil; look not to the harvest, but how hard you’ve worked to grow. 

[cileekk]

[cileekk]

[moonlight-petal]

I lay there, darkness wool and warm on my shaking hands, and think

I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t

and I shouldn’t have.

[darkearthsuggestions]

the longer I spend with my back to the earth the sharper I smell the rain– shoulder blades digging like the teeth of a shovel, I catch sparks in the air and swallow them whole. The storm will wash across this earth and leave me behind. I hope the streams remember me. I hope the rain is warm. I hope that one day– impossibly– when I stand, the dirt will wear my figure as a soft-hearted scar until it has rained again.

[twofigs]

sitting on the bus on a foggy morning and only thinking — is this, finally, my life? do i hold it with both hands? do i try to live?

[rabbitinthemeadow]

And together we drown in that cloying, intoxicating perfume // Part 3

[gaycommunist]

actually, growing up is feeling like i turned sixteen two days ago. i’ve been eighteen for years. fifteen year olds seem so young. wasn’t i fifteen just a few weeks ago? all my friends and i are still twelve. i’m closer to thirty than to being a baby. i never got to be a kid. i never grew past eight. i can’t talk to my mom. i want to sit in her lap forever. i want to decide everything for myself. i need someone to tell me exactly what to do. the week is going by so slow. an entire year has passed.

[rabbitinthemeadow]

Oh joy of joys, oh light of lights // Part 5

[silvaris]

The golden mornings in the forest . . by toma_bonciu