In That Great Discourse With The Living Dead Which We Call Reading, Our Role Is Not A Passive One. […]

“There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.”

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Oscar Wilde

by David G. Forés

“I started sleeping more than usual. I guess I’m just in love with a thought, that only my dreams allow me to have.”

-via nemoday

You say prisoner, and you think of her: the girl whose veil smelled of wildflowers snatched by bone-fingers she clutches the grass and the earth bears stitches in the shape of her fingernails she clutches the grass and the earth screams. You say prisoner and you think of her: the cursed girl she has known death without having died. You say prisoner and you think of her: you think of him, soaking up what last breath of wheat still remained in her; the shadow of her collarbones as the sunshine dies on her skin. But you do not know: she kissed him first. Her lips have tasted death and you know she liked it. She fed the pomegranate to herself; she devoured every last seed until juice ran down her chin. He gives her sunshine and she does not want it. She rules death with fingers still pumping with heartbeat and when she laughs the Underworld shakes, and Hades with it. You say prisoner, she says queen.

persephone, you were never doomed. (via aarontveiits)

i am terrified that twenty years from now i will still look back and feel an ache when i remember the boy who broke my heart all those years ago. and i’ll somehow still miss you. but for you, i’ll probably be just one of the many girls you dated when you were young. you’ll look back and only remember a foggy memory of me; my face, a blurry vision in your mind.

— i think i’ll miss you forever

I was on a walk when I saw Death at a street corner. I didn’t like him so I just power-walked right past him. He got flustered and hurried after me while trying to talk to me, but I kept ignoring him.

In some versions of the story it wasn’t the sun that Icarus flew too close to- it was the ocean with it’s tantalizing blue depths and salt water that stripped his wings of glue and down down down he fell sinking into the waves no one ever taught him how to swim. in some versions of the story Persephone walked into the underworld with her head held high eyes forward ready to take and take and take she stole the pomegranate seeds and when Hades found out he was furious and sent her away but every six months the seeds brought her back to the gate and a crown made of thorns grew on top of her head and she was queen. in some versions of the story Artemis fell in love with a mortal and when he broke her heart she grew cold and unfeeling not even her brother could pull her from her darkness there are days when she still finds herself at the windowsill waiting waiting waiting for her lover to return knowing he’s with another. in some versions of the story Medusa grew lonely she lived in a garden of statues and no one came to visit anymore and all she wanted was someone to love she became angrier and angrier at the cursed serpents on her head until one day she grabbed gardening shears and one by one by one chopped off the heads of the snakes but with their life force went hers and they bled out together and with a knowing look in her eyes she faded away. in some versions of the story the Gods and monsters and legends are still among us in churches and diners and battlefields they sit hunched over on dirty porch steps with cigarettes in their hands or across from you as a dinner date they have become us in more ways than one in some versions of the story the myths never faded from our minds because they are still in front of our eyes and you are the main character you are the reason we are all still here.

You’ll never know how much you mean to the stars– Lily Rain (via wont-time-love-us)

you were my world and now i can’t imagine you in it

funny how memories can become so distant

you were once the love of my life

now you’re just someone i knew once upon a time

every now and then i see you in my dreams

it doesn’t hurt; i don’t cry or wish you were here

i hope you’re happy. i hope you’ve found someone who makes all your problems disappear

sometimes love doesn’t last

sometimes our first isn’t our last

sometimes there’s better to come

and one day we’ll once again believe in love

— i’m drunk and this is what i want u to know

Her disintegration went down a shaft of phases, every one more racking than the last; for the human brain can become the best torture house of all those it has invented, established and used in millions of years, in millions of lands, on millions of howling creatures.

Vladimir Nabokov, Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle (via quotespile)