dxsies-coffin - Tumblr blog

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"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.

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Pray, Love, Bleed

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Pleading Prayer - daisy (me)

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White Petaled Flower - daisy (me)

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Tell me you'll say hi.

I'll light myself on fire for you; If it means that you'll come running through. I'll jump as high as I can; If it means you'll come flying by. I'll learn your favorite song; Because maybe then you'll linger around. I'll stand as still as I can; If it means you'll hold my hand.

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— Leo Tolstoy

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Elton Glaser, from a poem titled “And In The Afternoons I Botanized,” featured in Parnassus

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sorry I say weird shit sometimes I’m just so excited to be alive

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PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005) dir. Joe Wright

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Killer of Myself 🗡

Sometimes I dislike myself very much,

Purely because there's a hatred in me that I refuse to cast on anyone else,

So the only answer is to cast it on myself.

It's like casting a veil on someone's head, but why would I make anyone but myself the bride?

It's like casting a sheet over the body at the scene, but who else should die if not I?

It's like throwing a penny at seam but who else should sink

and sink

and sink

...to the pit of despair and finally have a place to call home but the wanderer,

me?

It's like closing the casket on a loved one,

but it's you,

at 3.

You've been dead for a while now,

couldn't you see?

It's like throwing dirt on the casket because you don't belong,

you never have,

you're shunned,

unpleasing to the eye.

And by that,

I mean:

You weren't even invited to your own "in loving memory".

But your memory wasn't loving,

not by yourself nor by them.

Because you,

a corpse bride,

wanderer of the sea,

dead at 3,

died by the hands of the hatred given to you by me.

-daisy

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reminds me of growing older; totally gonna write about that

Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase

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— Anaïs Nin, from The Voice