Why Did We As A Society Stop Putting Gargoyles On Everything. What Fucking Loser Looked At A Building

i love my erratic and enigmatic henry winter

i consume too much caffeine, don’t sleep enough and don’t read enough.

also i have to spend more time in nature.

i need to touch grass so i can feel alive.

might fuck around and only wear tweed, turtlenecks and oxfords, drink worrying amounts of coffee, leave my apartment only to sit in a small cafe and read paperbacks, have a close friendship with underlying homoeroticism,,

reading books in Latin, coffee stained papers, piles of books on the desk, spilled ink, wine bottles with a candle stick in it, cherry red lips, a very chaotic mind of new stanzas and creative work. Grecian artwork and statues that crumbled over time. revlon lipsticks and dior blush.

― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

· And I didn't have nothing more to say. It was horribly silent in my empty mind. And then one single scream.

The first and the last one ·

I am a terrible combination of “whatever happens, happens” and “If everything doesn’t go according to plan, I will vaporize”

fuck wrapped, how obscure are yall

~I dance on the glass, we dance in each other's eyes and in the madness I push you away because you recognized the bitterness of my soul.~