The Knight of the Flowers, 1894, by Georges Rochegrosse. Detail and photo by Paul Perrin. Edit.
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Anne Sexton, from “Snow”, The Complete Poems
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my anger is not beautiful. it is cold and biting, bitter, all teeth. a wounded dog. i am desperate. thats enough to make me something close to deadly
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i’m entirely capable of being a fucking nightmare.
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i’m not like other girls. i don’t die when i’m killed
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i’m an angry person and i want to let it out and be an asshole but i’m also a nice person and i don’t want to actually hurt anyone’s feelings do u feel me
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“I will do anything for you” is not a promise I make lightly.
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You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all.
Magnus Bane (via comradecutiepie)
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i don’t know how to let myself be upset without drowning in it. it always turns into anger.
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*coughs up blood* i mean im pretty chill you know nothing really gets to me and
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Because my body / wasn’t made for peace: for never / feeling pain.
Ashley Mares, from “Apparition,” published in Noble / Gas Qtrly (via lifeinpoetry)
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“I don’t like pity. Pity makes you feel small and weak. I’d rather have someone hate me than pity me.”
- Marco, Book #15: The Escape, pg. 98 (by K.A. Applegate)
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reminder that i’m very sweet and endearing so be nice to me
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Han Kang, Human Acts (translated by Deborah Smith)
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