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@wordsforpluto

wandering inside my head

1,410 posts

“That’s enough,” Jem snarled.

The TSC fandom:

“if you must die, i’ll envy even the earth that wraps your body”

— Albert Camus, State of Siege.

literaturecravings

—Normal People, Sally Roone (2018)

tomorrow i will get my life together. if i’m not sleepy

stressedcombatboot

"I am too miserable, too low-spirited, to sick of the world and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death"

Bram Stoker, Dracula

man yall the interpersonal drama in ancient rome was something else like. there was a guy named crassus who had a pet eel and was so sad when it died that he gave it a funeral, and when another dude named domitius ahenobarbus made fun of him for throwing an eel funeral, crassus was like "oh so this is coming from the guy who's buried three of his wives and not even shed a single tear about it." wish i could've been in the room for that one

i love the rain. especially when it starts early in the morning. i love looking out to see a gloomy sky, i love the slight breeze as you open your window, i love the sound it makes as it touches the surface. i’ve come to appreciate life more every time it rains.

my cat’s lil photoshoot

1. Ada Limón | 2. Käthe Butcher | 3. Sylvia Plath | 4. Alyssa Monks | 5. Mieko Kawakami | 6.Joseph Larusso | 7. Clarice Lispector | 8. Käthe Butcher | 9. Virginia Woolf | 10. Alexandra Levasseur | 11. Sylvia Plath | 12. Kim Cogan | 13. Ottessa Moshfegh | 14. William Chase | 15. Carmen Maria Machado | 16. Karen Offutt | 17. Clarice Lispector | 18. Ron Hicks | 19. Virginia Woolf | 20. Käthe Butcher | 21. Sylvia Plath

When Jane Austen said, "And sometimes I keep my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in," I felt that

silenceformysoul

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836-1912) - Reverie (Waterfall Nymph)

hannibalismos-jaaneman-deactiva

Dearest Flowers

I like coming home back to you

For it feels like bees buzzing

Over the flowers of my childhood;

Drawing the butterflies of my garden

And chasing the sunlight as it recedes

Into the mountains, wherefrom

The sun peeks at me from a valley;

It feels the same way as when you

Scrunch your nose and smile at me

Like cities on a Christmas night.

I like finding you on the couch,

While Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol

Runs drily on the dreary television.

When I come home late from work,

I like to kiss your eyes and ears and

Make you a sundae from old ice cream

In the refrigerator, while you sleep soundly.

I'd like to do this like a ritual and

Sing my soul out to you on my death bed

Till the last time I breathe and

The last time I see the world in a blur

With your eyes watching me pass.

~ Cole E. Whittaker

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