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happy "everyone forgets that icarus also flew" monday. i want to throw up !

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We try to squeeze ourselves into boxes we don’t fit into, and once we’re finally in them, we realize we’re stuck.

- A.I.S.R

#poems on tumblr #spilled thoughts #poetry #quotes on tumblr #dark academia aesthetic #tumblr #my literature #my thoughts #romantic academia #my poetry #writing my heart out #self expression #expressive #heartfelt #my life #my soul #soulful #solemn #learning how to use tumblr #tumblrgirl #dark thoughts #late night thoughts #indie #tumblr quotes #independent artist #creative writing #creative process #my art #art of words #art of expression

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Anaïs Nin, from The Voice

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Looking out the window,

The sun is finally asleep,

My only companion is the moon,

and the things that she has seen.

The wind tells me she’s heard the stories

as she bristles her way through the sky,

The trees whisper all about it,

while the memories pour their way back to my heart.

“Stop speaking again about it!”

Cry the emotional clouds;

They’re tired of christening yet another burial ground;

Of things that once were,

yet we can no longer see;

They have had enough of seeing the lovers grieve.

- A.I.S.R

#poetry #poems on tumblr #spilled thoughts #quotes on tumblr #dark academia aesthetic #my literature #my thoughts #my life #life poetry #my art #learning how to use tumblr #bring back 2014 #romantic academia #romantic thoughts #valentines #losing my mind #my journal #journaling #writing #writerblr #love life #lovers #lover girl #i miss you #emotions #my feelings #tumblrgirl #tumblr #my past #loving life

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SLAVE

You call yourself a slave but there’s no master to be seen; a slave with dust for shackles; dust from lies, mistakes and greed, but you mask them by presenting them as fatal acts of crime like a tune with redundant bass.

You call yourself a slave; a victim to the circumstances of life, yet you wake up and stare into the eyes of your master while standing in front of the mirror, and while vision is made clearer, more changes the demeanor you take towards yourself while you blame the accusing eyes of those around you for your demise.

- A.I.S.R.

#poems on tumblr #spilled thoughts #poetry #quotes on tumblr #dark academia aesthetic #my literature #my life #my words #dark poetry #realization #life poetry #haunted #loneliness #learning #slam poetry #slam poem #pinterest #my thoughts #losing my mind #tumblrgirl #tumblr quotes #writers on tumblr #creative writing #my art #my artwork #artists on tumblr #small artist #small writer #learning to write #life quotes

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– Juansen Dizon

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Jihyun Yun, from Some Are Always Hungry; “The Leaving Season”

[Text ID: “It’s strange / to know this world I loved, / loves me best / dismembered.”]

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Solitude has been deemed a punishment, so what wrongdoing am I paying for?

I am confronted with the despicable warmth of uncertainty, without a compass to guide me from the edge of the world, where I scream into the abyss, without a soul to witness the horrors of pure nothingness.

I am warm, but never hot.

I am warm, but never cold.

Stuck in the middle without a way to consume me, while the lack of passion slowly sucks away my essence as I stand outside my own body witnessing expressionless.

What is life without a purpose? What is a poem without the prose?

Maybe an opportunity; maybe something to mourn.

- A.I.S.R.

#spilled thoughts #poems on tumblr #poetry #quotes on tumblr #dark academia aesthetic #solitude #i am alone #original art #art journal #my literature #being alone #pushing through #life #my life #dark literature #dark poetry #no friends #friendship #tiktok #writerblr #writing #spilled words #moving on #keep going #perseverance #realistic #realization #my #my words #original writing

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Fall Forest by valiphotos on pixabay

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Interlinked

Solitude has been deemed a punishment, so what wrongdoing am I paying for?

I am confronted with the despicable warmth of uncertainty, without a compass to guide me from the edge of the world, where I scream into the abyss, without a soul to witness the horrors of pure nothingness.

I am warm, but never hot.

I am warm, but never cold.

Stuck in the middle without a way to consume me, while the lack of passion slowly sucks away my essence as I stand outside my own body witnessing expressionless.

What is life without a purpose? What is a poem without the prose? What is life without being consumed by the madness of passion?

It’s another way of saying the word “misery”. It’s the most painful subtraction.

- A.I.S.R.

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Linda Pastan, from Waiting for My Life: Poems; "What We Want"

[Text ID: "and in the morning / our arms ache. / We don't remember the dream, / but the dream remembers us."]

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Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Lytton Strachey (September 1925)

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Louise Glück, from "Persephone the Wanderer", Averno

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Haruki Marukami

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whats it like to lock your fingers with someone you love