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venom in your veins, blood in your mouth
you were born, i believe, in a thunderstorm
lightning struck your mind from the first
and rain was in your eyes.
you were born, and blocked the sun
forevermore, or so they’d say.
thunder made itself known
to your heartbeat
and the rest since then is history−
you’re a master of putting out fires.


i wall myself in with river rocks
in the morning and wait. solid
fist, stuttering breath,
how many times can i count to
ten before you find me?


every pant, desperate,
becomes a chant
too loud for my taste
as large as what i want?


Light, flickering
through the window pane
draws footprints of rainbow
onto your back
as you arch
into my open hands,
cupping your face
like chalice of all things holy,
desperate for a drink.


I take you in
Savoring the smoke
Boiling from my belly
And you quench my thirst
Purify me
Something you never expected
But it happened anyway
billowing clouds burst
From me
Enveloping the sky
Godrays lance in between them
Highlighting us
In our never ending dance form


in order: Orpheus, ghost, Sarah Silvertongue, Ainsel, Δλ,

. The Dead Anon Poets Society .

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Blood On The Tracks 

“And every one of them words rang true and glowed like burnin’ coal …”

Orpheus releases my fav Dylan album (today) on January 20, 1975 …
It’s #16 on Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums of All Time and was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2015.


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Apollo watching Hermes play Hades and he starts bawling when Lament of Orpheus comes on like “HERMES,,, HERMES MY B O Y,, HES S A D” and Herms like “bruh its a gAME…” and then Apollo has to go call Orpheus because dear lord 💔💔

Orpheus, disgruntled: “Father?? It’s like…3 AM…”

Apollo, forgetting he’s like 7 hours ahead of him: “…oops.”

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MAKE ME CHOOSE. @draupadiyas​ asked: hadestown or wicked?

see how the world could be
—in spite of the way that it is.

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I made a lineup of the named characters of hadestown for my character design homework

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My empty room
Crowded too soon
I look for the fire escape
I picture myself
Running like hell
Making my getaway

(break me out, the rescues)

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I will now very aggressively hyperfixate on and kin Orpheus <3

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in wait for me i when orpheus sings “im coming wait for me / i hear the walls repeating” and the ensemble sings WAIT to the beat of the song reblog if you agree

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“Senti passar por mim o estremecimento sagrado de um imenso desejo e o poder de um amor sobre humano. Eurídice viva, proporcionou-me a embriaguez da felicidade . Eurídice morta, me fez encontrar a liberdade. Foi por amor que me cobri com este hábito de linho, devotando-me a grande iniciação e à vida ascética; foi por amor que penetrei na magia e na ciência divina, foi por amor que atravessei as cavernas da Samotrácia, os poços das pirâmedes e as tumbas do Egito. Eu rebusquei a morte para ali encontrar a vida. Vi os limbos, as almas, as esferas transparentes, o Éter dos Deuses. A terra me abriu seus abismos, o céu, seus templos relunzentes” 

Os grandes iniciados- Orfeu- Edouard Schuré. 

Emil Neide 1842 - 1908 , Orpheus and Eurydice. Germany.

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On Sunday night, Orpheus tossed and turned in his dark, bare room. His bed felt empty without Eurydice there. The night before, he’d rolled and rolled and rolled across the sheets, hoping to find her warmth on the other side. He was met only with his cold bedroom floor. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not until Eurydice came back. She was coming back, he knew it. He knew in his soul that he simply had to wait for her, for however long it took.

On Monday night, Orpheus couldn’t sleep. He crept into the empty sitting room of the apartment he shared with his godfather. He saw white linen napkins, freshly washed. He saw flowers on the coffee table. And he saw the shelf of beaten-down books Mr. Hermes didn’t know what to do with. He sat down and began to read. Orpheus’s lyre was in the corner. He’d somehow developed a strange distaste for it.

On Tuesday night, Orpheus swore he saw glimpses of Eurydice by his closet door. She didn’t speak, or move, or even look his way. He whispered her name, he did it a couple of times. His words fell on the deaf ears of his bedroom. Whenever he opened his eyes, though, she was there. If only for a second, he saw his dear Eurydice.

On Wednesday night, she was there again. She was in his bed this time, and speaking to him. He spoke back to her, like he used to do in old times. They talked like she had never left. The joy he felt was overwhelming as they whispered feverishly though the night. But when he tried to kiss her, she vanished, and he began to cry into his pillow. In the morning Orpheus told Mr. Hermes about what he’d seen that night. His godfather frowned and told him to eat some breakfast.

On Thursday night, she didn’t vanish. They talked like they had last night, then kissed, then more. He couldn’t feel her, but felt safe in the knowledge that she could feel him. After they’d finished, she lay with him quietly for a couple of hours before disappearing. Orpheus woke that morning with a wide smile on his face. When Mr. Hermes asked him what put him in such a good mood, he told him. The old man said softly that Eurydice wasn’t, couldn’t be there. Orpheus wore a gaunt scowl for the rest of the day.

On Friday night, Orpheus was alone in the house. There was one other person there, an old man in a gray suit who took long walks and spoke very softly. Orpheus didn’t recognize him, nor did he know the magnificent lady in green who somehow seemed a lot older than she looked. When he asked them their names and what they were doing in his house (very politely, he would add), the old man excused himself, while the lady introduced herself as Persephone. Her voice was suddenly soft as well, but Orpheus wasn’t quite sure why she called him “poet.” He didn’t care. He had his dear Eurydice back.

On Saturday night, another man came by the house. He was younger than the other man (who had told Orpheus his name was Hermes), and he carried a clipboard. The name tag on his white coat said Dr. Patroclus Chironides, MD. Orpheus thought that was a fine name, and told him so. The doctor smiled and asked Orpheus questions, which he answered to his best ability. His favorites were the ones about Eurydice. Later he heard the doctor talking in a low voice. Orpheus couldn’t hear much over Hermes’s sobs, other than trauma and incurable and asylum. Later that night, he and Persephone took a walk. She took him into a small office, signed some papers, and left Orpheus in an upstairs room. He didn’t think a thing of it.

On Sunday night, Orpheus lay very still.

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