angelmouthed-blog reblogged
I don’t know who I am
when I am not trembling.
Darshana Suresh, from “Haunted House Hearts,”Howling at the Moon
█ ▌◆ —— the civil wars lyrics sentence starters
- that’s the least of all my fears.
- please forgive me.
- devil’s gonna follow me wherever i go.
- i’m a dead man walking.
- you only know what i want you to.
- i know everything you don’t want me to.
- you think your dreams are the same as mine.
- i wish you’d hold me.
- i don’t have a choice but i’d still choose you.
- you’ve been lonely too long.
- let me in the wall you’ve built around.
- let me hold your hand.
- you’re like a mirror, reflecting me.
- i never meant to get us in this deep.
- i wish you were the one that got away.
- oh, if i could go back in time.
- i wish i’d never seen your face.
- he’s hidden his heart away.
- all he really wants is for someone to want him back.
- what i choose is my choice.
- the killer in me is the killer in you.
- you’re sunlight.
- you’re my favorite song, always on the tip of my tongue.
- look what you’ve done.
- you own me with whispers like poetry.
- your mouth is a melody i memorize.
- oh lord, what have i done?
- i’ve fallen in love with a man on the run.
- don’t take that sinner from me.
- i’ve fallen for someone who’s nothing like you.
- i just want to take him home.
- he did what he had to do.
- give me the burden, give me the blame. i’ll shoulder the loud and i’ll swallow the shame.
- don’t care if he’s guilty. don’t care if he’s not.
- he’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that i’ve got.
- i saw heaven every day.
- don’t you fret my dear, it’ll all be over soon.
- i’ll be waiting here for you.
- i don’t want to talk right now.
- for all that we’ve got, don’t let go.
- i can’t pull you closer than this.
- it’s just you and the moon on my skin.
- just hold me.
- she’s in love and she won’t be again.
- i’m going to go home.
- why are you so far from me?
- in my arms is where you are to be.
- how long will you make me wait?
- i don’t know how much more i can take.
- i’m still waiting patiently.
- i wanna leave you.
- i wanna give up.
- i’m gonna say it if you won’t.
- stop saying those sweet things you know i like to hear.
- you’re right here with me.
- you can’t blame me.
- haven’t you noticed me drifting?
- i’ve got to let you go.
- i just keep losing myself.
- one glance was all it took.
- give me one more chance.
- won’t you please let me into your heart?
- i was blind to let you go.
- i want you back.
- trying to live without your love is like one long sleepless night.
- i’m coming home real soon.
- i love the best i can.
- whatever you do, keep it with you.
- sometimes i can’t tell where i am.
- through it all we still remain.
- all the king’s horses and all of his men couldn’t tear us apart.
- i gave you all the love i’ve got.
- this is no ordinary love.
- i gave you more than i could give.
- you’ll always be the only one.
- i could get over you but please don’t ask me to.
- you always said you want me to be happy but happiness was having you here with me.
- you’ll always be the one that’s standing in my way.
“oh fuck…”
she has a natural alarm clock, a shrieking in her head that starts almost as soon as she starts to feel relaxed. as soon as her eyes roll open she’s wide awake, there’s no blinking or stretching or coming around to it. she’s awake. she’s ready. “what’re you still doing here?” she croaks, sitting up and throwing her feet over to the cool floor of her bedroom. “is that my weed or yours? it better not be mine.”
his attention doesn’t waver once aeli starts to move. no, silas is borderline hypnotized by the slivers of pink, red & orange inching in through slitted blinds. the colors fan out on the ceiling in even patterns ( the sort of order he experiences rarely but appreciates all the same ) and though he hears what she says, his response is far from hurried. with a busy, busy mind, the prophet takes his time ; pulls at the blunt greedily. “dunno,” he answers plainly, an ironic answer from a man who knows far too much, “felt like stayin’.” he’s content to keep it at that, eyes flicking her way for the first time since they’ve woken up when the mattress creaks beneath her ; an offer of the blunt comes soon after. “’s mine. last of it.”
keithjcastillo-deactivated20200
let me tell you of prophets and those with divine words etched into their skin,
they burn just as brightly as any star
but the difference between the stars and them is this:
prophets die far too soon, and stars age with a quiet grace they don’t seem to posses,
everything they do is loud and on fire.
and when prophets die, it’s as disastrous, as horrible as star exploding and just as brilliant
they were not made to be mortal
and divinity wasn’t meant to be etched onto human skin
stars - k.j.c (via cloudsermon)
he isn’t free of his usual temperament ( that would be a miracle ) but with sticky smoke swirling in his lungs and the heat of their flesh against him, the tempest is calmer than usual. even when the angels’ murmurs mount to howls and fracture the unstable hush, silas weathers the swell ; a hand tightening on their hip at every screech, a deep pull on the blunt at every cry.
❛ —- the sun is coming up soon. ❜
#indie roleplay#indie rp#reposting this as well bc once again: THIRSTY FOR REPLIES MONTHS LATER LOL#just a lil disclaimer: this isn't with someone he's dating because silas doesn't date#( pls to read his bio to understand why )#but he has a lot of casual sex#and i'm imagining this being with someone he tends to come back to more often than not#bc they make him calm in ways other ppl don't when they fuck#and also they have weed so--#drugs cw#drugs tw
rolling over proves to be a lot more hassle than it’s worth —- but when the sun’s rays peek through half-drawn blinds and rouse silas from an unusually heavy slumber, it’s a reaction he can’t help but muster ; natural yet very much regretted as pain shoots hot-white over his bruised side. “ fuckin’ ‘ell,” he hisses, eyes forced open by the discomfort caging him in at every side. he recognizes neither the room he’s in nor the fresh clothing he’s changed ( or been changed? ) into, yet manages an eerie amount of calm as he shifts ( rather laboriously ) off the bed and limps into the hallway in search of answers.
angelmouthed-blog reblogged
featuring. ( angelmouthed )
she sticks an ice cream cone in front of his face. ‘ care for a treat? free of charge. ‘
emotions bloom in rapid succession ; first, shock, then confusion, then a slow-burning annoyance that finds silas inching back with a scowl. “---fuck off.”
angelmouthed-blog reblogged
featuring. ( angelmouthed )
it doesn’t take a more than a second to notice that today the other looks especially exhausted – or perhaps he’s just being more attentive. ‘ you look really tired. you sure you don’t want to just…lay down or something? ‘
he acknowledges cameron’s concern --- might’ve even appreciated it on a good day --- but silas admittedly has little patience for it. he doesn’t want to think about the weariness that drags him under or the futures to which he bears witness ; he just wants to touch, touch, touch and cameron is much too far away. “’m fine --- com’ere.”
angelmouthed-blog reblogged
“What is the point of selling flowers and they’re all brown.”
Nevermind the fact that she’s talking to herself in the outside gardening section of Lowe’s, she’s disappointed that all of these flowers look terrible, at least eight-five percent of them. If she had the time to, she would definitely fix all of the flowers herself, but she can settle for bringing some begonias back to life.
HIS HEAD IS LOUD ; the sort of loud that renders the world filmy, that relegates its sounds, colors, people to static while the angels rise to the foreground. & it feels as though he’s had his head held underwater for days -- never drowning outright ( which would no doubt be a relief ) but deprived for long enough intervals that he’s grown accustomed to the burn in his lungs and when he does break water -- as he has now -- he hardly knows what to do with himself.
he doesn’t remember coming to lowe’s and finding such an awkward perch beside its shrubbery ; but it’s a nice place to be. patrons seem as content to ignore his ragged presence as he is to ignore theirs, which allows him a much-needed peace in the thick of it all. and it might’ve continued that way all afternoon, had the presence of magic not drawn his attention ( albeit shakily ). it doesn’t take him long to find her ( the begonias springing to new life are a clear indication ) and even less time to address her as though he has the right. “what are you then?” the question comes in a manner that bespeaks boredom ; as though her magic is as common as riding a bike or knowing how to swim. he’s intrigued but unimpressed --- his usual state of being, as it were.
angelmouthed-blog reblogged
lavncelot1-deactivated20170507
dictionary poem iii by mica k
gildedmouths thanks for the word choice! :)
magnetization-deactivated202002
angelmouthed-blog reblogged
K I N G D O M O F G O D { music for holy cities }
as requested by wizzard890
music for cities drawn from the blueprints of heaven; for theology wrought into stone; for structures; for labyrinthine cathedrals where lost souls come in order to be found; for scaffoldings holding up the flesh of belief itself.
01 CONQUEST OF SPACES | woodkid { Stretched to the core of galaxies / Distorted city grids / By a black hole of vanity / Blossoms the age of greed / Beyond the laws of density / Towers of glass and steel / Temples and fragments of memories / Drifting away from me }
02 BREATH OF LIFE | florence + the machine { And although I wasn’t losing my mind / It was a chorus so sublime / But the room is so quiet, oh oh oh / I was looking for a breath of a life / A little touch of heavenly light / But all the choirs in my head sang, no oh oh oh }
03 DOWN THE BURNING ROPES | james vincent mcmorrow { Down the burning ropes / Past the places where the steal beams meet concrete skies / You make your bed under the moonlight / I think it’s time we said goodbye }
04 PIANO NOCTURNE | chopin
05 BOADICEA | enya
06 SHINES | hear hums
07 THE WORSHIP BELL | heathered pearls
Source: thymoss
would anyone like to plot?!
angelmouthed-blog reblogged
bold which habits your muse has
nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking | swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping | snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling | licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back of their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness | running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders