It's Always "I Love You" And Never "cubitum Eamus?"

ink-stained fingers, crumpled sheets of unfinished poetry, withered roses, lipstick on the rim of a coffee cup, dark chocolate, forgotten gods, starless nights, red candles, bloody knees, ribbons in hair

'spit' being the past tense of 'spit' doesn't sit right with me.

tehe i made a little uquiz you should take it tehehehe

Sorry I’m not here, I’m mentally at Francis's country house thinking about when Henry smile there is a slight chip in one of his front teeth and it gave his smile a very engaging quality

"why bother drinking decaf coffee if it defeats the point of drinking coffee-" Do you possess no capacity for whimsy? Do you never rest? Must everything you consume work towards fulfilling a need, serving a higher purpose? Must your pursuit of happiness be marred by the constant desire for practicality, and progress, and utility? Can you not just like the taste of coffee

am i more productive at nighttime or am i so choked with responsibility and duty during the day that my free time is now only ever available to me when in exchange for a sacrifice of tomorrow's wellbeing? (because apparently revenge nighttime procrastination is an actual thing??)

look all i'm asking for is forehead kisses and academic validation and autumn and museum dates and cold bedsheets and misty mornings and baggy sweaters okay???????

Dancing in a hazy nightmare;

Loving in a sharp daydream

sometimes i wanna be red nails and cigarettes and cat-eye sunglasses, but then again i wanna be lipgloss and rose petals and lace, but at the same time i also like baggy sweaters and second-hand book stores and polaroids, but then i think about long scarves and fog and well-worn books, but then i see fingerless gloves and bruised knees and tangled jewellery, but also what about messy braids and daisy chains and knee-high grass, but then-

does it ever just hit you that, like, woah, i am a bundle of blood and organs and gold and stardust held together by skin and sunburn and scars and i exist with billions of other bags of skin in this silly little society on this silly little rock in this silly little universe that is impossibly massive and i am impossibly teeny tiny in the grand scheme of humanity, and humanity is impossibly teeny tiny in the grand scheme of everything and everyone and everything i know will be reduced to dust and ashes in a blink and there is nothing i can do to prevent the constant and omnipotent advance of time-

and then you're just like damn okay and go back to doing your silly little human business