avery; nineteen, and waiting second year ancient historian & archaeologist. occasionally, I write about monsters. always interested in discussing mythpunk, the aestheticization of things, and russian tragedy.
"I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.
The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me."
— Pablo Neruda, from ‘Here I Love You’ (via soracities)