#dark words

[settledinstars]

My father’s mother always called us dumb, idiots, jerks. I wrote about it thirty years too late.

I taught myself how to tie shoes.

Sitting on the coarse white carpet,

Free of the red wine stains that were to come.

I asked for help, for guidance, as she took another sip.

Pleads left unanswered to soil at the bottom of the bottle.

I taught myself how to tie shoes so she could get off the couch.

I taught myself how to tie shoes because I was seven years old, showing you I was not stupid.

[tamirestts]

Are the eggs we are receiving Titan eggs?

This is a bit of a stretch, but I'm watching the video part two about who spend is and why he's so important to Deltarune, and I thought: the mysterious man gives us eggs in both chapters. Both can be placed in different places on the surface (Asgore's flower shop and Sans' market). We are somehow involved in creating dark worlds. Maybe these eggs can germinate the titans in places where it would be very difficult to make a dark world, or they are just being left so that when they reach the peak they will blow up the rest of the city.

I also thought it might be some kind of spy egg, the ones with little cameras, but I think that's less certain. Neither will happen, I suppose. But it would be funny if it did.

[davidjordanphoenix]

🌑

Foul rot. Psychopath. Whore.

Look at yourself. Really look. Sunken dark eyes, bulbous pockmarked paste, thin strands of grey and shit brown hair. Hanging sacks of rotted flesh, dripping grotesquely from the body YOU ruined.

Stuffing and gorging on food when you already break furniture with your vile, fetid form. Spilling maggotmeat over every surface like your body belongs to occupy space.

You're covered in infection. Sores and rot and foul stench. Sagging, sinking putrid skin.

And that's just what people have to look at and smell. Your mind is the real poison.

Blaming everyone else for your helplessness. Too lazy to do anything except fawn over those who are better than you. Waiting for someone to "save" your rotted ass instead of doing anything yourself.

Pathetic. Waste of flesh. Devoid of humanity. You're a monster, a coward, a disease. Look at yourself and tell me you deserve to keep breathing. You don't do you? You don't deserve anything except pain and rot and stink.

Stay alive so you don't burden the humans with guilt they don't deserve to carry. Carry the sin of your existence on your back and relieve others of their human tendency to think they could have saved something like you.

[nomore-names81]

How do I stop pretending nothing is real

How do I silence the violent scream that forever echoes inside my head

When will it all stop feeling so raw

When will it all stop

[bluegladiatorstudent]

I've cried everytime I was called cute, pretty and beautiful

I cant really tell if it's tears of joy that they've realised I was cute

Or it's all a lie

No one can really tell or understand unless you've been body shamed and mocked all you life toll that moment

Then you're forced to think of when you'll find genuine people ever

[mascheromi]

Sorrido Ma Dentro Urlo

[spookysalem13]

Humans are the real monsters underneath our beds.

[krowkeeper]

Repost because I am an idiot and misspelled in my first post.

[paulwhitewriter]

A story just for you

Today I am feeling generous. I have selected a short story from my book ‘Dark Words’ for you to read for free. Dark Words is a collection of short, and not-so-short stories interlaced with poetry, all with a heavy emotional bias, hence the title of the book. We all have dark times in our lives; times when the clouds of uncertainty gather about us, when the shadows in our minds slam shut the…

[behind-the-veil-of-sanity]

Is there such a thing as morbid irony, planning the aftermath of the day the ticking stopped, planning the unwinding of the clock, then merely wait – for the silence

[derangedrhythms]

Ingeborg Bachmann, In the Storm of Roses: Mortgaged Time; from 'Dark Words', tr. Mark Anderson

TEXT ID: Like Orpheus I play death on the strings of life.

[settledinstars]

Loving an addict is a lot of things.

I can’t look at him and tell him what he’s doing is tearing me up inside. I cannot handle the guilty sad look on his face. This is not something he WANTS. This is something that challenges him every minute of every day. There is a monster living inside of him…not in a costume, no, he’s still him. He’s still his body and soul working so hard to keep the monster at bay, deeply under his skin, belonging to the darkness. I can’t tell anyone how this makes me feel. He can’t go to anyone else about this either. Do two shitty situations make a good situation? No. But it grounds me. It grounds me to him. Us. Each other. Something that is completely mine and no one else’s. No matter what, who, out of love or anger or sadness or both, they can’t help but express concern and opinion. There’s no room for that on my table right now. A table for two.

[moonlights-tears]

Words slipping from nimble fingers. Typed like the days of old. Lyrics to live and love by. Pulled from the ethos of a darkened mind. They shall corrupt and pull you into MY shadows.

[nomore-names81]

Did you just fall open for me or did I slice into you like a knife

Did I invite you in or did you trick your way in

I don’t know

But we are both on the inside now

Can’t see anyway out

We Claw and bite but everything becomes tight and tense till we both scream

[spit-out-the-dust]

I have always been the “I am here in the trenches with you” friend.

Doesn’t matter which Frosty road you go down with Robert—I have always said I will accompany you on the road less traveled, more traveled, never traveled. Whatever. No judgments. Ever.

However I have not had a friend like that since I was twelve. I lost her over a fucking boy at 21 and she died because of that boy before I ever got a chance to fucking fix it—and now I am out here prostituting my friendship at 31–realizing, no matter how many times I “give it up”

True friendship just does not exist anymore.

It is as sad as true love.

[mascheromi]

senza la mia voce mi sento inutile