how can i lead with two good arms?
Cindy. 21 years.
Location: Texas.
Ravenclaw. Bunburyist. Tyrell. Time Traveler. Alchemist. Meth Cook. Vampire Slayer. Marauder. Avenger. Speedster. Detective. Clone. Reader. Philomath. Writer. Rhetorician. Feminist. Vagabond.


jenstarz:

I love wine and I know that it loves me too



"

Every morning the maple leaves.
Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts
from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big
and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out
You will be alone always and then you will die.
So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog
of non-definitive acts,
something other than the desperation.
Dear So-and-So, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your party.
Dear So-and-So, I’m sorry I came to your party
and seduced you
and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing.
You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?
A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing.
Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on.
What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon.
Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly
flames everywhere.
I can tell already you think I’m the dragon,
that would be so like me, but I’m not. I’m not the dragon.
I’m not the princess either.
Who am I? I’m just a writer. I write things down.
I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure,
I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow
glass, but that comes later.

Let me do it right for once,
for the record, let me make a thing of cream and stars that becomes,
you know the story, simply heaven.
Inside your head you hear a phone ringing
and when you open your eyes
only a clearing with deer in it. Hello deer.
Inside your head the sound of glass,
a car crash sound as the trucks roll over and explode in slow motion.
Hello darling, sorry about that.
Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we
lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell
and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.
Especially that, but I should have known.

Inside your head you hear
a phone ringing, and when you open your eyes you’re washing up
in a stranger’s bathroom,
standing by the window in a yellow towel, only twenty minutes away
from the dirtiest thing you know.
All the rooms of the castle except this one, says someone, and suddenly
darkness,
suddenly only darkness.
In the living room, in the broken yard,
in the back of the car as the lights go by. In the airport
bathroom’s gurgle and flush, bathed in a pharmacy of
unnatural light,
my hands looking weird, my face weird, my feet too far away.
I arrived in the city and you met me at the station,
smiling in a way
that made me frightened. Down the alley, around the arcade,
up the stairs of the building
to the little room with the broken faucets, your drawings, all your things,
I looked out the window and said
This doesn’t look that much different from home,
because it didn’t,
but then I noticed the black sky and all those lights.

We were inside the train car when I started to cry. You were crying too,
smiling and crying in a way that made me
even more hysterical. You said I could have anything I wanted, but I
just couldn’t say it out loud.
Actually, you said Love, for you,
is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s
terrifying. No one
will ever want to sleep with you.
Okay, if you’re so great, you do it—
here’s the pencil, make it work …
If the window is on your right, you are in your own bed. If the window
is over your heart, and it is painted shut, then we are breathing
river water.

Dear Forgiveness, you know that recently
we have had our difficulties and there are many things
I want to ask you.
I tried that one time, high school, second lunch, and then again,
years later, in the chlorinated pool.
I am still talking to you about help. I still do not have
these luxuries.
I have told you where I’m coming from, so put it together.
I want more applesauce. I want more seats reserved for heroes.
Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you.
Quit milling around the yard and come inside.

" — Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out - Richard Siken


#w

englishsnow:

sarah L



englishsnow:

  by hiro-kaji



enjolrasmon:

thisislostinlace:

zombiescorp:

airedmania:

streussal:

#!! narrative foils !! #they start as fish out of water!wes and ready for anything!connor #but then shit hits the fans #and bodies drop #and wes assumes control while connor falters and stalls #i’m already so into this #give it to me (via cypressun)

*nodding* great catch

#i am so here for this #connor thinks he’s so ruthless but he so did not sign up for this #wes has ethics but takes control of the shitty situation calmly #imma ship this tbh

#but but wes has always been quick on his feet #and really good at taking the reins #while everyone else had two days to think about the case he only had a night #he had the guts to take on annalise twice #everyone else cowers or kisses her ass #look at how unintimidated he was by rebecca #oh and murder he was the only one to not visibly panicking #i’m not surprised his bravado isn’t a facade and he’ll grow into a leader

#jer’s tags are wonderful #i will probably ship this because i am weak for this kind of thing #NARRATIVE FOILS! #i am so fascinated how this will all play out and i can’t wait to get to know everyone better

(Source: sebastiansmonroe)



englishsnow:

 Mie Imanishi



englishsnow:

 36negatives



englishsnow:

by yopparainokobito



"af·ter·glow \≈\ n. I. The light. esp. in the Ohio sky after sun-
set: as in the look of the mother-of-pearl air during the morning’s
afterglow. 2. The glow continuing after the disappearance of a
flame, as of a match or a lover, and sometimes regarded as a type
of phosphorescent ghost: This balm, this bath of light / This
cocktail of lust and sorrow, / This rumor of faithless love on a
neighbor’s lips, / This Monday morning, this Friday night, / This
pendulum of my heart, / This salve for my soul, / This tremble
from your body / This breast aflame, this bed ablaze / Where you
rub oil on my feet, / Where we spoon and, before sunrise, turn
away / And I dream, eyes open, / swimming / In this room’s pitch-
dark landscape." — A. Van Jordan, “af·ter·glow” (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

(Source: structureandstyle)


#w

arrow meme - four friendships [2/4]

→ john diggle and felicity smoak



MSL