#*aw

[angelobadalamenti]

ANTON WALBROOK as Philip in ALLOTRIA (1936) dir. Willi Forst

[whonderstruck]

I just found my year 12 english teacher on facebook (from 6 years ago wow) to tell her I’m about to start my english teacher career and to thank her because I admire her and she said I really boosted her confidence as she’s about to start teaching it again since she stopped after my year level I’m - 🥹🥹

[cerisebian-remade]

i. 

all i wanted was someone stubborn enough to stay.

all i wanted was someone’s time— the time i’ve spent breaking myself apart, the time i’ve spent putting myself back together, the time i’ve spent breaking myself for the sake of making others feel better.

(it is selfish, i tell myself, to ask for something you’ve been doing for a lifetime.)

all i wanted was someone with the strength to stay

all i wanted was someone to break down the walls i built with these fragile hands— my hands tire from pretending like i am piecing myself together when all i ever do is fall apart from the canon fire.

(is it selfish, i ask myself, to ask someone to bear my weakness for a lifetime?)

— from an angel, and so you befriended greed

[cerisebian-remade]

ii. 

to destroy in fire,

to burn down the bridges,

a path i take no longer.

to bury in the earth,

to kill my demons,

keep them six feet under

to drown in water,

to drift in an endless ocean,

the horizon is a limit

to fly in the air,

to free my self at last,

and soar on winged light

— from an angel, and so the earth granted mercy

[cerisebian-remade]

iii.

solitude, my friend,

how humbly you pretend to be

apologies are forged,

to partner with false promises

time, my enemy,

every word you spurn is a lie

retribution!

tell me a truth,

how you can take all,

each of my fears

so i turn to the sky

to ask for hope, but

after all, the only

remains of pandora’s box

seem to be the greatest danger of all

— from an angel, and so you shatter the stars. 

[cerisebian-remade]

how can someone be okay after you’ve bore your soul? and everyone turns their heads to whisper, to mock, or simply to say it is messy, grotesque. they want nothing to do with it, or maybe it’s just not enough.

everybody makes it out to be easy— “protect your heart,” they say, and i see them happily chaining their hearts, keeping them in locked chests.

i have tried—perhaps, not enough—because the chains rust with every thrashing wave of emotion. entire tsunami waves of hatred surge to break it, maybe not now, but overtime, and when i burst, i aim only to hurt myself.

it is not that i make myself a martyr, but that no one should have to see something ugly—a small face twisted in tears and piercing screams. once carefully crafted nails rake my arms to hurt, to bleed, and when the waves subside, they take, take with them blood and dirt.

and maybe, i can tell myself i am washed anew, clean, but the wave will return, and i will be made to hurt once again.

— from an angel, and perhaps, i am selfish

[cerisebian-remade]

i. frantic fingers

tear at paper hearts

with nails like knives. 

ii. spilled ink

draws sanguine lines

shaped like your name.

iii. ringing bells

turn to shrill murmurs

and escape like a shout.

iv. i’m clawing at skin, at a body that doesn’t feel hear taste— no longer,

i cast it aside in favor of a cape of dread, a crown of regret.

v. here, atop my throne,

no one hears me cry.

— from an angel, and still i struggle to breathe.

[cerisebian-remade]

quicksilver falls easily from your tongue.

your words drip of mocking metal, a pool of poison,

asking for a smile, a promise, a laugh.

disguised in speckled stardust, you hide fire,

you hide a cruel cold. you hide a blanket of thin

air that chokes and stand firm, close to the sun.

and you leave quickly, flying high with wings

made of feathers you plucked from my dying body.

i refused to call you god, so you killed.

— from an angel, and you wore all the faces of mercury.