(clingnebula.tumblr.com)
submit your pics
lifeinpoetry: “Did you inherit a sickness? Did you blame god? Do you believe in God? Do you believe in yourself? Are you still on fire? Did you ever put out the fire?” — Lisa Marie Basile, from Andalucía
generalpostoffice: might fuck around and submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known
days-of-reading: Sophocles, Elektra (trans. by Anne Carson)
Somewhere Over The Rainbow
1dietcokeinacan: Womanhood b like: *performs femininity n suddenly everyone’s nicer to u*
theromanticidealist-blog: ““People label themselves with all sorts of adjectives. I can only pronounce myself as ‘nauseatingly miserable beyond repair’.”” — Franz Kafka, Diaries of Franz Kafka
weltenwellen: “All of us were screaming, and no one could help.” — Dorothy Allison, Bastard Out of Carolina
Untitled
sideeffectsinclude:Flame and Shadow, Sara Teasdale
pinkhollywood:
finita–la–commedia: “I’m not desperate: I am numb and try not to feel anything. The day pass - that’s all.” — Mihail Sebastian, a journal note of Monday, 11 December, 1936 in “Journal 1935–1944: The Fascist Years”, translated
I disagree with what your face says
thepersonalquotes:
dongkelley:love is real!!!! Only for a fleeting moment
actsofgodhood: “What does it mean to be so sick with want that you create rituals which lead nowhere?” — Melissa Broder (via anger-is-an-energy)
arterialtrees: Carolyn Gage, The Second Coming of Joan of Arc (1987).
∆.we.are.indigos.∆
aqua-regia009: Badlands (1973) - Terrence Malick
lilcowgirl4: “I always feel abandoned by those who are laughing and talking as if they had left me out, whereas it is I who get cut off by my own nature and separateness.” — Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary;
violentwavesofemotion: “I know that many things that seem very precious – very holy – are gone for me – but I feel too – that way down beyond that – where you can not touch it – where no one can touch it – there is a bond – that is
violentwavesofemotion: James Elroy Flecker, from “To A Poet A Thousand Years Hence,” written c. October 1910
violentwavesofemotion: Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter to his niece, Sofia Alexandrovna, written c. October 1870
jaw8jaw:Kate MccGwire, Secrete (mixed media with magpie feathers)
365filmsbyauroranocte: Veronika Voss (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1982)
new injuries
If god did not help me, what is he good for
Kill humans
lifeinpoetry: “I am surviving but for how long?” — Jesse Rice-Evans, from “[Outro with Survival],” published in glitterature for the mobs
hotbloodlike:
nationalmuseum-swe: A Goat Resting by Philipp Peter Roos, Nationalmuseum, SWE http://collection.nationalmuseum.se/eMuseumPlus?service=ExternalInterface&module=collection&objectId=17232
wishbzne: waiting for god, wong may
My mind is poisoning me.
birinci-eski:
twofigs: when kosinski wrote “i’m sure there are aspects of my personality buried within me that will surface as soon as i know i am completely loved.”
neoyorzapoteca: Simone Weil
You give me hope but I know Im doomed.
11-9n: “Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home?” — Emil Cioran, Tears and Saints
kikopott: “No one practices psychology out of love: it is rather a form of sadism, a desire to annihilate the other by taking possession of his intimate being, by stripping him of his mysterious aura. Quickly exhausting men and their limited resources,
alex
I have a painkiller and a pain causer
Im being wasted
BLACK HOODY
xarika: Kilink Istanbulda
Pain seems to be the only real thing
expressing wit my full capabilities
https://64.media.tumblr.com/5d0719e1a70114afac700b72e9e72b5a/tumblr_oo08zrr9921ukfom8o1_500.jpg
sesiondemadrugada: Paris, Texas (Wim Wenders, 1984).
theabsurdabsurdity: My lips, which I know to be pale, taste of a desire not to live.Fernando Pessoa- The Book of Disquiet
fearorlust:
duchampscigarette: Carl Theodor Dreyer - Michael (1924)
duchampscigarette: “I could actually say he was unhappy in his unhappiness but he would have been even more unhappy had he lost his unhappiness overnight, had it been taken away from him from one moment to the next, which is again proof that basically
duchampscigarette: Ferry Radax - Thomas Bernhard, Three Days (1970)
duchampscigarette: Sergei Parajanov - Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (1965)
i hate behavior. if you act like anything unfollow me
Only if crying can heal
murd-er-otic: “For I desire the dark, the naked, and the lone.” — Charles Baudelaire, from “Obsession,” Les Fleurs du Mal (The Flowers of Evil), trans. Cyril Scott (Elkin Matthews, 1909)
Altar of Blood
![lifeinpoetry: “I am surviving but for how long?” — Jesse Rice-Evans, from “[Outro with Survival],” published in glitterature for the mobs](https://64.media.tumblr.com/avatar_29155cddc1dc_128.png){kind=avatar}
