orpheustic - Tumblr blog

[orpheustic]

“I know your face like the back of my hand.”

— Unknown

[orpheustic]

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, The Palace of Illusions / Nicola Yoon, The Sun Is Also a Star / A Hymn to Childhood by Li-Young Lee / Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath / Quote by @ petfurnature on twitter / Three Eyes by Amatullah Bourdon @butchniqabi / Source

[orpheustic]

Nizar Qabbani once wrote There are some people that we didn't forget, but we don't smile anymore when they're mentioned.

Just like Ahmad Faraz said Ab tere zikr par hum baat badal dete hain, kitni raghbat thi tere naam se pehle pehle

[orpheustic]

I am,

now coalesced with the dead corpses of the poets, in the place where my despairs are in the frontline with the voices that sought me, I'm now, residing in the roots of the dead Christmas tree that grew on our toes when the agony caught and ate us up in the full moon darkness and silenced our cries in the way one could ever imagine again”.

[orpheustic]

December.

The season has arrived, I fall into the deep shallows of darkest nights, Where the cold winds would flow through my cold blood vessels, The crackling sound of bonfire and the smell of smoke from my bones that fills up the place which has spent decades without any light, the laughing sound echos of those spirits of december who would give their presence in the christmas supper with me in the solitary silence with their frenzied laughs tonight.

I can no longer hold the snowy flakes, they're too heavy for my shoulders that carry my despairs to fall on. I can no longer walk on the alleys of love, I keep stumbling upon the rocks of my teardrops scattered around the streets that holds me down. The cardigans are of no use, They don't provide me the warmth i seek but giving me the coldness i am always petrified with. The woods that burns in the fireplace is now frosting the big house with the smoking mists of my yearnings where the ignition of frigidness remained unknown.

The foggy streets are now abandoned, People are grieving in their dwellings, For the despairs they held in for the whole year are now emerging up from within.

Cries are fortified, the tears are begging to be pacified, The rapids that flows down my cheeks, never stopping.

I sit near the moon and the stars where i am still afar from them, They pity me for my miserable yearnings and at the pathetic child that resides within me, The adolescent who begs for people's solicitude, who grows a fear that, she'll always end up embracing the wilderness of dark, And where, she would befriend the presence of trapped immortal voices that laugh and mock at her miseries.

the child envies others who get to live the tales of their love, but in search for her happiness, all she got was fatal tales of woe.

she fears if the silent voices that fills the big void could ever hear her mortified cries from the canopy of the empty domicile, cries that begs for desperate happiness.

And if not, The least she hopes for is to be with that one fainted voice that whispers her name even when she would breathe, in the place where the ivy grows on broken graves of unprecedented lovers to unite,

the voice from whom she seeks the same which she did not get from others, to whom she would return whenever the heavy sharp snow flakes would hurt the paper heart of hers, to her, who would caress her head whenever the snow would fall on her.

And as the sky would start chundering snow all over her perished grave of sorrows, she says,

"the season of mourning that traps me in this maze of melancholy, now is building up the house of cries inside me, the path which is leading me to astray,

To the place where the dead christmas tree with fragmentary wishes are burried with the trinket of winter that shines in dark sky, where the corpses of dead poets are embellished as eve presents, where, their dead cries are being sung as solitared melodies with the jingles of the broken christmas bells,

I am lead to there, to be one of them, among the ones who seeked their wishes they were desperate for to come true,

but i'm dragged into this dark pit of hysterical cries and ultimately becoming the one of them who would get coalesce with the place where the lifeless Christmas trees with desolated desires grew on the graves, where, the spirits would cry the sounds of fondness plea".

[orpheustic]

“I spent all my teenage years being obsessed with beauty. i'm very resentful about it and i'm very angry. i had so much intelligence and energy and drive and instead of using that to study more, instead of pursuing something, instead of going out and learning about the world, changing the world, i directed all that fire inward and burnt myself up and tried to make myself beautiful and perfect.”

— mitski, in sight out podcast

[orpheustic]

Mary Oliver, from We Should Be Well Prepared; Red Bird, 2008

[orpheustic]

Winter,

Winter's here, And so my heart's gone, The snowy fast gusty winds freezes me, And the ruthless coldness shivers me up, The love i hoped to experience, Passed like the fall.

And I, Who was waiting for her to turn back and walk up to me, Stood there in the cold and watched her walk away.

As if nothing ever happened, As if the first snow which i anticipated to watch with her last year, never fell again, As if the one who promised to walk up to me, never returned again, And the snow flower who waited to get held by her hands, Now has withered away in the cold night of darkness forever ever again.

[orpheustic]

Ravanii,

hongi jab ye baarishein, berang sa jo tha ye jahaan mera, tere aamad hone pe rangeen ho jayengi. sukhi jo ye patjhad ki patte, woh hari ho jayengi, jab ret ki yeh ye bereham loo mujhe tadpayengi , kehete hein tab tu ayegi bannke khud hawa, de ke mere rooh ko najaat aur tu ravaanii ho jayegi.

[orpheustic]

Transperancy,

I am, a person who stands in this veil maze of transparency, who lets the passerbys see through me, from my vulnerabilities to my echoing joyful laughs, my soul and my mortifying cries in the dark. the maze which had evolved from the cries from the darkness of desperation, And the veil which had separated me from them within this fortified silence, The wind who tried to faze this room of maze, moved the veil which set us apart but they still couldn't see me standing with my hands covered with the blood of yearnings, hurt from the cries of this room of longing, from who's breathe their name echoed.

My fingers moved through the maze seeking for them to give me a warm embrace in a room which was filled with ruthless cold , but they, failed to catch my hand back and lose to give me the embrace which i once seeked to be hold.

The eyes which had embedded my deepest hopeless despairs, tried to deliver the messages through the confinement of this transparent veil of silence but the eye gaze they made, was never meant to be with me.

I cried out their name in this big void of silence, but as they say, all they heard was voice of people who passed by, but in this empty maze never it was me,

And Perhaps, I was just a desperate standing body, calling out their name, in this convolution, while standing before them, And they, who failed to recognise me through this veil maze of transparency, which was never there ahead of them.

[orpheustic]

book quotes that i will never recover from

"he is half of my soul, as the poets say. " - song of achilles

"write me a letter telling me how to live the rest of my life without you." - how to make friends with the dark

"they were my birthday presents." - shatter me

"she had realized that she had forgotten the precise blue of his eyes and the depth of his laugh." - clockwork princess

"my name is sam cortland... and i will not be afraid." - assassin's blade

"you chose me four years ago. would you choose me still?" - these violent delights

"we were all supposed to make it." - crooked kingdom

"i remember everything." - the invisible life of addie larue

"come home and shout at me. come home and fight with me. come home and break my heart, if you must. just come home." - cruel prince

"i wasted all those yesterdays and am completely out of tomorrows." - they both die at the end

"you hated the idea of me." - the final gambit

"bob says hello." - house of hades

"abuse can feel like love. starving people will eat anything." - nightfall

"i missed you only with an ocean between us. but if death was separating us... i would find you." - queen of shadows

"i loved him. i love him. as best i could." - we were liars

"i'm the villain, even in my own story. but you were supposed to play a different role." - finale

"i will find you again in the next world—the next life. and we will have that time. i promise." - a court of wings and ruin

"i spent half of my time loving her and the other half hiding how much i loved her." - the seven husbands of evelyn hugo

[orpheustic]

Home,

I ran like a madman, roaming to the places unknown, places to find the traces of her, desperately searching for a place which i could call my home, but the place i was led to was somewhere i wasn't supposed to be. The place which could hurt me in either way, and hurt my sentiments if it were my home,

I would be hurt,

the place which i treasured in my dream so dearly close to my heart, would hurt me, i feared, the owner of that place would welcome me not as someone calling me "welcome, my beloved" but instead she would call me "welcome, my friend, welcome back to your home".

But nevertheless it was the place where her comfort would welcome me,

the place where her voice would caress me

the place where she would listen to my yearnings

to the me who ran restlessly in search of her,

In the place where she resided in within in darkness luminating her light in cold,

She, in whose cold I was looking for her warm hands to hold,

warmness which is separted by distance,

coldness which is briged like the abandoned destined souls,

and hands, which i seeked through the fortified darkness

are nowhere to hold.

and still,

the one who didn't even knew about my whereabouts, i called her my home.

[orpheustic]

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Richard Siken, Crush (Little Beast)

George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire)

Margaret Atwood

Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

Yves Olade, Bloodsport

[orpheustic]

- November 2, 1911

- The diaries of Franz Kafka, 1910-1913

[ID: November 2. This morning, for the first time in a long time, the joy again of imagining a knife twisted in my heart. End ID]

[orpheustic]

clicks on you and downloads you as a jpeg and puts you in a zip folder so youre safe and warm btw

[orpheustic]

Rang,

Hazaron khwabo ke sapne dekhe the maine kayi saalo se aur har sapna ka naam tu hi tha.

Sau aasmano ke faam dekhe the par gulon mein rang ishq ka laga mujhe bas tera hi tha.

[orpheustic]

“Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.” ― Robert Frost