“one should always be drunk. that’s all that matters…but with what? with wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. but get drunk.”
turtle neck sweaters and steaming mugs of coffee and overcast clouds and leaves of red and yellow and orange and glossy doc martens and red lipstick stains on necks and pinkie promises and crunching strolls on new york city sidewalks
it’s three-thirty in the morning, that’s a bad time to talk about should-haves and would-haves - needful things
“i feel so sad. i feel so abandoned. i feel very alone”“we’re all alone, reva.”
-my year of rest & relaxation
the sweet scent of cigarettes and semen on your lips
new york, new york 🖤
“he wished being alive always felt this good”
watch the sawdust n dirt,
swirl swirl swirl
down the drain
dizzyingly alone, me and the metal chamber.
👽🛸🪐
“you’re never more alive than when you’re almost dead”
tim o’brien
no socks
are allowed in the red-room
no pretty pink flowers
are allowed
at the woods at night
xxii | she/her | psychology & creative writing | desperately searching for meaning in the mundane
33 posts