Poet

Leo - Sag - Virgo Asks are open - feel free

[vampiric-prose]

Perhaps I love vampires because I find comfort in the idea that someone could want me simply because I bleed.

[pollen]

Edward Hirsch, from "Late March"

[nixscriptum]

[fleursdesmorts]

from "Tenebrous" by Georgia Rebecca

[mournfulroses]

Sylvia Plath, from a diary entry featured in The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[lunamonchtuna]

— Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous (via lunamonchtuna)

[vampiric-prose]

Let me cry no more tears.

Let me laugh at something other than myself.

Teach me again a life not so drowned in doubt.

Teach me again what it is to breathe and feel anything but guilt about my breath.

[vampiric-prose]

I can decay in place for hours,

Legs numb with jellied, weeping pain,

And a brain which sticks and drudges against the sides of my skull,

And it will still not be enough.

I can beg and breathe and pray and weed and still never have enough.

What is it like to know respite and rest from outpouring exhaustion and bleeding stress?

What is enough,

And who decides what it is?

And what would it be like to know sleep and forgive the aching mind that lays so gently along this pillow and these sheets.

[vampiric-prose]

I did not know I was lost

Until I wasn’t looked for anymore,

And all of a sudden this weight lifted from my chest,

And my lungs became hollow craters which once held love,

Life,

And the care to be searched for.

And now that I am curled into the incredulous crevice of this rug,

This dark, wiry, and cruel carpet which swallows me whole,

I know how truly empty it feels to be lost.

And all the times I once cried for being lost mean nothing now,

Mean nothing against this empty, dusty ground.

[shisasan]

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟿, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[vampiric-prose]

My fingers turned green,

My rings turning to tarnished pink,

My heart muddling to grey.

My heart muddling to grey,

And I can’t help but remember how vibrant everything used to be.

I can’t help but picture the torture of neon colors and emotions that banged against the cell bars of my skeleton and soul.

I can’t help but let this ocean of terror and regret, remorse and desire to forget grip my breath and choke my chest.

I can’t help anything that is wrong with me- and yet I am too weak to wash this kind of clean and turn back the pink and green.

[paper-wounds]

[vampiric-prose]

I never thought love was foul,

Or unjust,

Or cruel,

Until I had been smothered and suffocated under the reality of us all and it was too late to know otherwise.

I wish I could take it all back,

Let myself live and lay in naïveté,

Believing love is true and just far away,

Instead of begging to have unbeknownst ruthlessness cling to my feet, and weigh down every step I took for the length of those near two years.

[mournfulroses]

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in The Diary of Anais Nin, Volume 3 1939-1944

[vampiric-prose]

I’m sorry I’m horrible

I’m sorry I’m a fundamental flaw in our Gods green earth; how many people do They make per generation in the name of Goodness? For am I not one of them, or am I NOT one of them.

I am sorry to my God for the pain I cause on Earth, for the sorrow I bring to my fellow man. I am sorry, and dear Lord do I repent for my wrongness.

Hear me now, O God, and hold me close- guide me not into horror and sin but to kind salvation of my innocent fellow man. Save and protect the innocent among men.

[mournfulroses]

Oscar Wilde, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Oscar Wilde

[mournfulroses]

Clarice Lispector, from a letter to Fernando Sabino featured in Why This World: A Biography of Clarice Lispector