Hello Loves.

Like honey on knives

[wroteyouathing]

𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦

[shisasan]

July 6, 1920 Letters to Milena by Franz Kafka First published : 1952

[paper-wounds]

via

[ruthlesswithnoend]

I’m painting in oranges and smoking greens till my head hurts more than it already did.

Wishing I was a bachelor, or at least a dying one.

Drinking champagne made of apples, in a golden can.

How proper.

-

-

-

Writing in colors is better than talking.

[ruthlesswithnoend]

Found headphones…so I’ll stop complaining

[ruthlesswithnoend]

Oh my gosh! why am I here?

This music sucks and your responses are making my ears bleed.

Am I here to sit, while everyone else does what they need to do?

Because, didn’t you know I have things to do as well? No recollect?

Did you bring me along for the ride and only the ride?

For company, until you have more?

And now I sit and wait quietly, like a good girl?

For fuck’s sake.

Well fine, I’ll sit in this chair, legs crossed, asleep, and watch as I sit here, for no fucking reason!

While everyone else does what they need to do.

Wonderful.

-

-

-

[ruthlesswithnoend]

I remember one summer I stayed among the sun the entirety of it

I read books and let my skin gather the rays, line after line

Oil along the length of me, so it must attract

My finger tips were raw from turning pages and digging at the earth

Finding crystals in my pages and gold in the dirt

Slicing palms on reeds and flowers that stick

Writing scrolls with the blood that drips

Glorious

And it’s warm again,

To where my face is always blushed a little more than usual,

And now my eyes squint but at nothing in particular

-

-

-

I really hate rhyming poems or writes, but whatever

-

New moon bitch, don’t get too down on your self <3

[ruthlesswithnoend]

You sneaky, bitch

[ruthlesswithnoend]

Little me would be so sad to hear that we never got better

[ruthlesswithnoend]

I should have slept the entire day

Would have been more productive than what I’ve endured

I could have at least got some rest, instead

Writing and writing in my phone, buzzing in my brain

I should just throw it away

No one messages me anyhow, and

I’m filling up my notes when I could be writing them on paper, instead of soaking up blue light

Raw forms, my emotions influencing my hand writing, something permanent

Silly girl

Throw your phone away and sleep, and

Write letters tomorrow, for someone who won’t be the blue light

[ruthlesswithnoend]

Last night I wrote about subduing my thoughts and sleeping them away

What a terror of an idea

Because arising in tears and heartache at a constant is indeed, a better way

-

-

-

They’ve been becoming more vivid,

Didn’t know these colors existed

I’d like to smear them with my fingertips and lick them off

-

-

Does anyone get good sleep or are we in limbo of our minds until we just can’t take it any more

-

I was always quite good at limbo as a child

What a pity

-

-

-

[ruthlesswithnoend]

The fans going around and my eyes are following and I’m wearing the same clothes as the day before.

[ruthlesswithnoend]

Insignificant.

Like the footprints you make in the dirt.

Forgotten and left over for people to follow if they had bothered to look.

It would have lead to somewhere beautiful.

Moss and flowers, supposedly weeds.

But you still pick them and claim it as a bouquet.

Stones in your pockets and stickers in your socks.

Trudging quicksand as you climb the beaten path.

And flowers in your hair, making you itchy.

Cupping handfuls of stream.

In your mouth.

On your legs.

On your arms.

Have you ever found what makes the wind blow?

Or is it as significant to you

As I am.

-

Found this bad boy in my drafts <3

[ruthlesswithnoend]

Sorry I never post my writing.

I must be a bitch.

[inkskinned]

this year for pride i'm identifying as a fucking problem :)

[ruthlesswithnoend]

And it smelled quite good as it all went up into flames.

Green grass smokes the most but not atop my father.

The engulfed walls and the cushions and the bottles of liquor waiting to explode.

Too bad we couldn’t have made cocktails as we watched with burning eyes.

[ruthlesswithnoend]

You should probably call me.

The boy in the mirror looking back at me is making fun.

And saying I am nothing.