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#dark academic
peacefulandcozy · 1 day
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Instagram credit: l_reads
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poems-to-read · 2 days
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You are a cemetery of anguish.
You are dying from the inside out, possibly already dead.
You are a graveyard of tears, pain and guilt.
(and you learned how to water the grass with alcohol)
You are a cemetery where no bodies are buried.
You are a cemetery of nothing.
You are a cemetery for other people,
They bury everything in you
And it haunts you.
I ignore them all.
Your torments,
Your regrets.
They're just ghosts to me.
I ended up becoming a ghost too.
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byzbi · 24 days
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lunamonchtuna · 7 months
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— Audrey Niffenegger, from ‘The Time Traveller's Wife’ (via lunamonchtuna)
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corpsebibliophile · 3 months
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"Sometimes life is stranger than fiction, but sometimes it's incomparable in other ways. Sometimes it's heaven that the false fire of imagination could never capture."
Before the Coffee Gets Cold
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rainreads · 9 months
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I don't ever know, how to hold the weight of my soul.
When letting go.
But I'm falling in my own illusion,
I don't know my way back.
~Tongue Tied, Beta Radio.
Paintings:
•Issac Levitan- In the Vicinity of the Savvino-Storozhevsky Monastery (1880)
•John William Ashton- Evening along the Seine.
•Hendrik Pieter Koekkoek- A Faggot Gatherer in the Woods.
•Paul Gustav Fischer- Street At Evening.
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the-soulwhispers · 8 months
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C.S. Lewis once wrote,
"I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief"
And I think we all needed to hear that.
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academia-lucifer · 5 months
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@academia-lucifer
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weltonboys · 6 months
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mother night, kurt vonnegut
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poseidonsarmoury · 2 years
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myacademiaescape · 1 month
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Spring comes quickly; overnight the plum tree blossoms, the warm air fills with bird calls
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peacefulandcozy · 2 months
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Instagram credit: liberaureum
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lovesdaya · 11 months
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@lovesdaya
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oscar-still-wildin · 2 years
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feeling that oppressive urge to have a group of friends who have weekly dinners at someone’s apartment, flock together on campus, debate literature and philosophy over wine soaked nights, study in the library together long after everyone’s gone, write each other letters when we’re apart for the holidays, run about the woods at night and be utterly, utterly free.
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lunamonchtuna · 25 days
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— Franz Kafka, from Letters to Milena (via lumamonchtuna)
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corpsebibliophile · 3 months
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