scorp

Life is a mess of stars. And I am the whole sky around me.

what chagrin, how bittersweet. i wish you were jealous of me.

If all the unfathomable chances and stars didn’t drift into a straight line, like an airplane runway for me to take off into their heart.

Ophelia wished she was a free bird-one as vibrant as the color of blood, that could fly away from the world. The brief thoughts of Ophelia in the hands of death - A Shakespearean tragedy.

Two makeshift detectives chase after the disappearance of Ophelia Artel.

a little life story <33

Birthday cakes and treasure hunts. Damp towels and bickering in a squeaky car. White wine and cigarettes.

I thought love was all in the shoulders. Hunched, preparing for the moment you will lunge at my neck. [...] Love and fear, as far as I knew, were the same scars.

a nostalgic poem?

writing is unseeing.

sometimes i wonder if there’s a point to even writing this