ramblings of a tired student

poetry -- exhaustion -- death witchery -- longing

[tiredscholar]

there has always been something about where the dead lie that has been sickeningly poetic and strangely comforting

lying in simple rows with no where to be no one to see and eternally asleep

there has always been something about graveyards

lying with the worms and dirt surrounded by those with one similarity the cold ground takes those in with warmth

there has always been something about cemeteries

lying beneath where the birds chirp and where the bunnies graze

death is kinder to us than life drawing those together through the same thing

[tiredscholar]

she rocks the boat and sings the sailors songs filled with stories to bring home to those who have no yet met her

starboard and port speak to each other talking about the things they each have seen and comforting one another from their respective sides

the lines have been tied the land is no place for a seasick sailor the sea is a companion the sea is an escape

the sea is solace the sea is a long lost lover

land is no place for a lonesome sailor the bow knows what lies ahead and the stern knows what has been left behind

she has built a home for those who yearn to escape without the loneliness

the sea is solace the sea is a long lost lover reaching out with her arms stretched to greet you and bring you back home

[tiredscholar]

in the tree

you are everywhere you are in my head and on my walls you could be miles away states away countries away worlds away but there you are you are everywhere you are in everything you are seen in the faces of strangers you're seen in the objects at the shopping mall you are in everything you are ingrained you have planted the roots of your tree in my life and you grow tall and strong you are everywhere

[tiredscholar]

[tiredscholar]

i wept today

on my staircase back at home

i wept, yearning for home

but i can't find it

it's a sickening feeling

knowing that home isn't home

and you don't know where home is anymore

it's not somewhere you can think of

it's just an idea

a perception

home

i wept today

[tiredscholar]

i am full of eyes

the biblically accurate angel

is what i want people to compare me to

upon first sight.

my ears are my eyes

they hear the things around me

that i have yet to see

my skin is my eyes

it feels the brush of things against me

that i have yet to see

my mouth is my eyes

it knows the words

that i have yet to speak

my eyes are my eyes

they see the things that i hear

the things that brush against me

and words put on paper

that i am too tired to speak.

i am full of eyes.

[tiredscholar]

i didn't have someone who believed me unconditionally. i didn't have someone who would pick me over everyone else.

now entering addamsville; francesca zappia

[tiredscholar]

the ghost // walter de la mare

‘who knocks?’ ‘i, who was beautiful       beyond all dreams to restore, i, from the roots of the dark thorn am hither.       and knock on the door’

‘who speaks?’ “i -- once was my speech        sweet as the bird’s n the air when echo lurks by the waters to heed;        ‘tis i speak thee fair.’

‘dark is the hour!’ ‘ay, and cold.’         ‘lone is my house.’ ‘ah, but mine?’ ‘sight, touch, lips, eyes yearned in vain.’          ‘long dead these to thine.’

silence. still faint on the porch          brake the flames of the stars. in gloom groped a hope-wearied hand          over keys, bolts and bars.

a face peered. all the grey night         in chaos of vacancy shone; nought but vast sorrow was there --         the sweet cheat gone.

[in-herbones]

My 3 favorite pieces I made this year🖤🥀

[chained-demon]

[hypnoticvamp]

The Evil Dead (1981)

[dominikmayerart]

Ghost Fire Knight

A personal piece I created earlier this year.

[tiredscholar]

if i am lost

i don't wish to be found

i look to the woods and think

there is a life for me there

screaming

beckoning

crying

for me to come closer

if i am lost

let me be lost in the sickly sweet aura of loneliness

i do not wish to be found

let me succumb to the forest

dance with the deer and sing with the birds

it is a longing feeling

to wish to be alone

surrounded by the whispers of the wind and the mumbles of the rocks.

[darkpoetrynprose]

“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.” 

– Edgar Allan Poe

[leannareneehieber]

A Melancholy Stone Maiden in Poughkeepsie Rural Cemetery, Upstate New York. Of all the photographs I took that were included in the interior of A HAUNTED HISTORY OF INVISIBLE WOMEN: TRUE STORIES OF AMERICA'S GHOSTS, this one is my favorite. She's so dynamic and unique.

[tiredscholar]

[tiredscholar]

to the coming winter and the nose that beckons to bleed

i can feel it

in the back of my throat

on my skin

in my bones

i can’t see it yet

but i know it is there

the air is sharp and cold outside

the air is artificial and warm inside

cutting and drying everything

that comes near it

i can see it

running down my nose and onto my skin

i can see the flakes outside

running down from the sky and onto the ground

it is here

the dark red covers the tissue

as the snow

covers the grass

it comes

comes quickly

lasting a long time

longer than it should

but

when it is over

it is over

leaving the air

leaving the land

bare

clean

i can feel it

in the back of my throat

on my skin

in my bones

i can’t see it yet

but i know it is there

and i know when it is gone