Isms | Elizabeth - Tumblr Posts
— Charles Bukowski, Screams from the balcony
“Grief is like a deep, dark hole. It calls like a siren: Come to me, lose yourself here. And you fight it and you fight it and you fight it, but when you finally do succumb and jump down into it, you can’t quite believe how deep it is. It feels as if this is how you will live for the rest of your life, falling. Terrified and devastated, until you yourself die. But that is the mirage. That is grief’s dizzying spell. The fall isn’t never-ending. It does have a ground floor.”
Taylor Jenkins Reid, Carrie Soto Is Back
reblog if your muse has ever suffered a life-threatening injury.
And it was written | I got cursed like Eve got bitten | Oh, was it punishment? I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope | A greater woman wouldn't beg | But I looked to the sky and said |
Please | I've been on my knees | Change the prophecy | Don't want money | Just someone who wants my company | Let it once be me | Who do I have to speak to | About if they can redo | The prophecy? A greater woman stays cool | But I howl like a wolf at the moon | And I look unstable | Gathered with a coven round a sorceress' table | A greater woman has faith | But even statues crumble if they're made to wait | I'm so afraid I sealed my fate | No sign of soulmates | I'm just a paperweight | In shades of greige
Spending my last coin so someone will tell me | It'll be ok Please | I've been on my knees | Change the prophecy | Don't want money | Just someone who wants my company | Let it once be me | Who do I have to speak to | About if they can redo | The prophecy?
Who do I have to speak to To change the prophecy?
I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope A greater woman wouldn't beg But I looked to the sky and said Please
𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒
tagged by @myriadxofxmuses ( tysm )
tagging : @clubsmarties @inhumanhacker @florxdexcerezos @shishitoren-vc @dozenrozez @grapefruitey (only if you feel so inclined )
MIDWEST DETECTIVE. files of black and white newspaper clippings. long beige trench coats. lace curtains in cobwebbed attics. 1950s love songs through a.m. radio static. piebald deer. ominous billboards against a flat grey horizon. leather messenger bags and cups of black coffee. headlights through blizzards. hatchets propped against stacks of hickory wood. abandoned factories. the scent of ink. blood on snow.
UNIVERSITY VAMPIRE. white button-down shirts. the scent of ancient books in drafty tomb-like library stacks. wrought iron candelabras dripping wax. gaunt portraits of renaissance noblemen in folds of red fabric. steaming chalices of mulled wine. garlands of dried oranges. vitrolas playing classical symphonies. ravens perched on the snowy sills of arched windows. black peacoats. gold astrolabes. blood on parchment.
LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S GHOST. heavy grey wool sweaters. fossilized trilobites & ammonites. splintering sheets of silver ice on inky black water. st. elmo’s fire. dusty sea glass bottles. fractal patterns of frost on window panes. boxes of matches and magazine clippings. curling tentacles & faded tattoos. dissonant player piano tunes. the smell of juniper. eerie yellow-green light through heavy fogs. circles of salt. blood on water.
VILLAGE WEREWOLF. brown cobblestone cottages capped with snow. clawmarks through sycamore bark. baskets of yarn and knitted smoky grey cloaks. ram’s skulls mounted stable walls. straw dolls & fingerless gloves. clouds of hot breath hanging in freezing air. tapestries of black-haired beasts accented with crimson embroidery. gas lanterns. chanted children’s rhymes. the scent of fir trees and rich soil. blood on wool.
MIDWEST DETECTIVE. files of black and white newspaper clippings. long beige trench coats. lace curtains in cobwebbed attics. 1950s love songs through a.m. radio static. piebald deer. ominous billboards against a flat grey horizon. leather messenger bags and cups of black coffee. headlights through blizzards. hatchets propped against stacks of hickory wood. abandoned factories. the scent of ink. blood on snow.
UNIVERSITY VAMPIRE. white button-down shirts. the scent of ancient books in drafty tomb-like library stacks. wrought iron candelabras dripping wax. gaunt portraits of renaissance noblemen in folds of red fabric. steaming chalices of mulled wine. garlands of dried oranges. vitrolas playing classical symphonies. ravens perched on the snowy sills of arched windows. black peacoats. gold astrolabes. blood on parchment.
LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S GHOST. heavy grey wool sweaters. fossilized trilobites & ammonites. splintering sheets of silver ice on inky black water. st. elmo’s fire. dusty sea glass bottles. fractal patterns of frost on window panes. boxes of matches and magazine clippings. curling tentacles & faded tattoos. dissonant player piano tunes. the smell of juniper. eerie yellow-green light through heavy fogs. circles of salt. blood on water.
VILLAGE WEREWOLF. brown cobblestone cottages capped with snow. clawmarks through sycamore bark. baskets of yarn and knitted smoky grey cloaks. ram’s skulls mounted stable walls. straw dolls & fingerless gloves. clouds of hot breath hanging in freezing air. tapestries of black-haired beasts accented with crimson embroidery. gas lanterns. chanted children’s rhymes. the scent of fir trees and rich soil. blood on wool.
𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖌𝖔 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖉𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖞 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊. 🌊
I’m offering you a fortune, you’re asking for a piggy bank, pourquoi? Fargo - S03E09
Nicola Yoon The Sun is Also a Star
Forugh Farrokhzad, from “Lost", Sin: Selected Poems of Forugh Farrokhzad
𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐱𝐜𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡
