Text

you burn with silence

I cannot tell you what or why or how but i can explain sadness

you can whisper secrets and I won’t respond because I am worth nothing and everything all at once

I am pain across galaxies 

Read More

Photo Set

Mediocre e/R doodles!

Text

pairing: Enjolras/Grantaire, background Courfeyrac/Combeferre and Marius/Cosette

warnings: mentioned/implied child abuse, self harm, suicide attempt, alcoholism and a destructive relationship. nothing graphic

notes: vague 2nd person from Grantaire’s perspective. Kind of a character study. 

You know screaming (or arguing as everyone else sees it) won’t make him notice you any more.

Read More

Text

my heart hurts

i am not using capitalization because that would be admitting i care, it would be admitting that punctuation is more than a word and more of a puncture and my mind cannot take that on top of the 

silence is heavy and so is intelligence and either way it feels like my lungs are collapsing in on themselves, collapsing in on the bad hairdays and good grades all compiling into a giant

whisper that collides in my chest leaving me caving in among the icy cold trees that i cry ‘magnificent’ to because i refuse to admit that lovely things can exist in the frigid environment of the neurons coursing though my head or maybe it’s just

it’s just the general empty bucket nature of humankind the way that we smile at each other because we don’t really know anyone and maybe i’m too hostile and the one over there is too loud and that one is just a little but too crooked but

crooked it what makes a person real, being just slightly off makes a life from a heartbeat and i cannot distinguish which i am living with my pretty little straight A’s in a line and 

this is ending like dregs of a box of cereal and i don’t feel any lighter for there are no balloons dragging me upwards and out of the way of those foraging a path that will one day turn to gold as our lives just spiral out of the way and into 

absolutely

nothing

Text

I realize that children are made out of their parents fallen dreams for themselves and everyone else they’ve pushed to the side across the years.

Read More

Link

paper yields a language I can only hope to master

paperarsenal:

Its full of dull colors in symbols, meaningless to so many. Some people make their paper into magic, bright colors and shapes and so, so, beautiful. My paper covered in words I don’t quite understand but love just the same. Some people have ways with words I can only imagine, they flow in…

Source: paperarsenal
Text

paperarsenal:

Dream.

Come on, when was the last time you let yourself? Your mind is full of smoke stained girls with lips as red as the hearts you can’t remember breaking.

Read More

Source: paperarsenal
Text

paperarsenal:

I can’t tell you what to do with your life when I don’t even know what’s happening in my own.

I’ve never kissed a boy or a girl or anyone in between or not anywhere near but I’ve proposed three times and gotten turned down.

Read More

Source: paperarsenal
Text

atreacherousword:

Even if I write petal words on paper and place them on flyblown rosebushes, you would not have chosen to pick them up. You held scarlet letters in your hand that you’d rather stitch them in your flesh like sewing an old rugged doll and giving it to an 8-year old kid with an amputated leg. The first time somebody filled your mouth with wine you spat it out and said No, but he said he was your maker and he wanted you to taste good. And I’m sorry if no one was there beyond the steering wheel and the windshield to have held your body like a home instead of a wine auction. Your bones are first prize plane tickets around the world and for once, I wanted you to have that same feeling you had, whenever you make snow angels out of plain white things. Turning them into something other than cold, other than melting flesh and bones.

One of these days, you wouldn’t care about the population of China, or the number of times somebody made you feel like an empty fountain. The fifty pound suitcase on your head will be nothing but paper boulders. You will lift them with your hands like Atlas and the earth, and memorize the beat of your heart like a nursery rhyme or a song by Billie Holiday. You might even believe that in an alternate universe you’re realizing life over a swing set, somebody’s holding your hand even if your arm’s-length away from each other. But in a world of beginnings and endings, and wasted apologies on broken things and broken hearts, you can be happy here too. You just don’t know it yet.

(via pouvoires)

Source: atreacherousword
Text

atreacherousword:

It didn’t hurt when I tried smoking out on the patio and my mother decided to place a No Smoking sign on the rocking chair. I was sixteen and she didn’t want me to feel like a target board. And yet my skin was entirely the color of a bull’s eye because my father decided to make it more than purple daisy skins. 

I had it coming when the girl’s from school told me my clothes are that of the homeless woman in the street. I was too young, yet my mind understood that my face was a far better liar than my body, so I covered myself from ankle’s to chin. And I felt like a broken television with nothing but static for clothes.

I’ve had countless moments picking flower-like weeds in the cracks of the sidewalk. I wonder if there will come a time I won’t treat myself like one. And bloom out of a wound over the cement floor, out of nothing else but courage.

They say I’m wearing a size-eight skin over a size-two body so I’m not going to be the girl you masturbate to in the magazines you hide under the covers of your bed. I never wanted to be your ex-lover. I wanted to be much more.

I needed to feel my own skin and trace my own scars. If there is one thing I’d like to remember before I pick up that knife, is that I have loved myself to the ends of these words, even if I have failed to do so for the last seventeen years of this life. And have the courage to tell myself that it didn’t hurt.

(via pouvoires)

Source: atreacherousword