heaven, what is that?

aesthetics for lehko'a nhali.

[stuart-townsend]

Joaquin Phoenix in Inventing the Abbotts (1997)

[dazzlingkai]

KAI ✧ ‘SuperM’ Photoshoot

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Chelsea Wolfe, from Birth Of Violence; “Dirt Universe,”  released c. 2019

[le-immorte]

[filmaticbby]

“Today a part of me has died and I cannot cry. For I’ve forgotten all synonyms for sadness.”

Tom à la ferme (2013) dir. Xavier Dolan

[bobbygio]

Luis Caballero

[le-immorte]

“She was my Spiritual anguish, a deep pining, nostalgia or love-sickness - to me she was an endless sward of birch on the edge oceans, in the dead of spring when the clouds stay still, and it’s only light for a few hours a day. To me she was a delirious happiness, to me she was a heartfelt conversation at 4am at steps of the porch… to me she was a destructive force who had softened me to the bone.”

— Channing H. M, In letters to Helaena (via de-morte)

[fearlastyear]

“The Torn-Up Road,” Richard Siken

The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt

[weltenwellen]

“His silence had begun as something protective, but over the years it has transformed into something near oppressive, something that manages him rather than the other way around. Now he cannot find a way out of it, even when he wants to. He imagines he is floating in a small bubble of water, encased on all sides by walls and ceilings and floors of ice, all many feet thick. He knows there is a way out, but he is unequipped; he has no tools to begin his work, and his hands scrabble uselessly against the ice’s slick.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

[lifeinpoetry]

Everyone wants a rock bottom. Some Icarus shit. But the truth is some holes keep going, yawning, heady, one mistake becomes three: there’s always a dark darker than the dark you know.

— Hala Alyan, from “You’re Not a Girl in a Movie,” The Twenty-Ninth Year

[de-morte]

“When I die, derange my ashes on her coffin — disseminate, dispel, suffuse it around her epitaph … I don’t care if you invect, aperture her grave — as long as you stain it with my ashes, dust it within her catafalque. Until there is nothing but a blur of ossein, of bones. Until nothing is left to the mortal eye but us.”

— Channing H.M

[biteythevillain]

*finishes suckin a dick **crushes it against my forehead like a beer can

[ansonmount]

[runawaydevill]

Disorder

[tarmairons]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Fleur Jaeggy, tr. by Gini Alhadeff, from “I Am The Brother of XX: Essays,”

[beidak]

crisostomo