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My heart is not a piece of wood to be carved

Or a lion to be tamed

My heart is not a runaway to catch

Or a picture to be locked inside of a frame

My heart is not spilling at the seams, at your feet,

it is not a glove for your hands

You cannot rip this out of my chest anymore,

My heart is not yours

My heart is a shore on an ocean which only

belongs to me

Water only I can reach

A private private private beach

Where your foot prints will not linger

Where you cannot place a finger

Where you cannot break me

My next heartbreak will not come easy

It will not come easy

- writing again- this one wasn’t even about love (@artnwords)

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“i think there’s something about being a young woman that feels very murderous. that’s what i was trying to get with a song like ‘dream girl evil.’ it can be dangerous for people to think you’re incredibly nice. when you get, ‘you’re an angel,’ that seems like such a high place to fall from. when i see messy or violent or terribly behaved women, especially young women, there’s a liberation. to not have to try and survive by being good.”

— florence welch on her song “dream girl evil”

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— Albert Camus, from a notebook entry featured in Notebooks (1951-1959)

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@mkvx

esse é o mundo caótico que eu quero para mim

(fonte)

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I’ve been told that I’m resilient but most times I feel the opposite. I find myself stuck in every painful thing that’s ever happened to me, while the world around me somehow keeps on going

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Letters To Myself

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a silent melancholy, a sadness that creeps up

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You don’t know me

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My first digital art attempt? I think I like it 🤍

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—Richard Kadrey, Aloha from Hell

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my photo

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