as if written by the hand of a bad novelist, an incredible thing happened.
sam. 21. istp.
prveviously aromanticreyna

inkskinned:

this august has been dyed in pomegranates. i am plagued by angels. i bake perfect cookies, and the world is ending. i feel lovely, and i am surviving, between sorrow and begging others to vote wisely. i watch good movies on zoom. i am the closest i’ve ever been to learning a new gymnastics trick, and i am aggressively kind. i want to swallow the whole world’s ugly in a reverse pandora’s box; collect all the evil in my vocal chords so when i open my mouth to speak, only hope comes out. i want to be a blueberry in maine. i spread jam and eat ripe fruit and say - if i am here, and alive, let it be in the name of crows. raucous, and unloved, and an omen of death - i spread open my fingers and count all the places you have made me grow callouses.  

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