lonely religion

heaven is a place on earth with you

[weep1ng-angel]

blog for things that don't go on main.

please refrain from following and keep interaction to a minimum. do not reblog any original posts

[weep1ng-angel]

but not. but not

....

hmm.

[weep1ng-angel]

need to scrape out everything and put them in me. i've never liked what i [?] becoming

[weep1ng-angel]

i crave to understand but my understand always changes, my understanding of the world, of her, of me, of everyone else. written and rewritten. i can't stop looking but i will look away

will i look away? i need to learn to look away.

[weep1ng-angel]

korekiyo

[weep1ng-angel]

..........

huh.

okay.

[weep1ng-angel]

death will take me home

[weep1ng-angel]

death will come for me someday. don't romanticise inevitability they say but what else can i do? death... death will take me someday. that is certain. it's so comforting. am i really romanticising it or is

[weep1ng-angel]

i'm hungry. i'm so hungry.

if i starve myself of physical food, will i be fed a little more love?

please

[a-sphyx1ate]

i woke up with your name coursing through me— frenzied as fever.

and there is something humiliating about needing you

i carry that desperation nonetheless like a lit match inside the mouth.

[weep1ng-angel]

one day. one day maybe after death there will be a nice little home. and in there will be

....

i dunno . pretending there will be someone who loves and cares for me and is okay with me regressing is so far removed from reality it doesn't comfort

a warm meal. maybe. yes; there will be a warm meal, and warm blankets, and a nice bed. and i will feel cared for, even if there's nobody. it will be wonderful.

it's gonna be okay. it's gonna be okay someday

even if that's after i die

[weep1ng-angel]

dont even have energy to do the thinks i like aand want to do

[weep1ng-angel]

....

i'm so tired. i'm so tired

i do love sailing. i do miss it.

but i'm so tired

[weep1ng-angel]

... kinda wanna steal it but they'd definitely notice.

[caldwell-63-deactivated20260526]

reaching is an exercise in futility. you carve a deep wound of absence in place of a heart. what you give is a love held in suspension;

thin as prayer, devotion without an altar childish and hesitant

false idols worshipped on your hands and knees, then left to rot where they fell.

signs everywhere, all of them pointing nowhere.

[weep1ng-angel]

every time they say you are loved i feel like either scoffing or crying. because to isn't true, and because of how badly i want it to be true

[weep1ng-angel]

............