A philosopher lives in your mind,
a lover in your heart,
an alchemist in your soul.
infj
INFj autopsy
the autopsy will find —
coloured flowers in my grey matter
still-beating poetry in my heart
unspent ink in every organ
blood saturated with love
bones mineral’d by life’s rough days
muscles fiber’d by courage and fear intertwined
and a slightly crushed but glittering soul
♯lifegoals
“I really would like to stop working forever — never work again, never do anything like the kind of work I’m doing now — and do nothing but write poetry and have leisure to spend the day outdoors and go to museums and see friends… Just a literary and quiet
—Allen Ginsberg (1926–1997)
Chilly bedtime thoughts
Winter is the slow-down
Winter is the search for self
Winter gives the silence we need to listen
Winter goes gray so we can see our own colors
Cozy
hiding in my winter cocoon
not coming out again until June
Awake & alone
Night is filled with our loudest fears and a silent courage.
Falling to pieces
I’m a dandelion puff in a harsh wind.
Perfectionism
I beat myself up every day without so much as a scratch.
Alone
For those uneasy with the world, solitude is the only guarantee of confidence.
I got tested
Yep, I’m an INFJ — an antisocial butterfly and the most hugging, loving
Unrealistic
I’m trapped in reality —
Come rescue me, angel of dreams.
blackout poetry created from Connie Willis, Passage, 2001
Vertigo
i think my body
is afraid of heights
because my mind
is already always
too dangerously
close to the edge