Nothing, Null, Hollow, Hole

day 129 of missing henry winter

born to be a henry winter forced to be a richard papen

i love my erratic and enigmatic henry winter

reading books in Latin, coffee stained papers, piles of books on the desk, spilled ink, wine bottles with a candle stick in it, cherry red lips, a very chaotic mind of new stanzas and creative work. Grecian artwork and statues that crumbled over time. revlon lipsticks and dior blush.

Hits hard darlings

characters whose philosophy is “if i cannot be wanted, i will be needed and if i cannot be needed, let me be used until there’s nothing left of me.” thank you for everyone’s attention. falls off stage and dies

The urge to learn every language and play every instrument and travel the world and live through every historical time period and be a writer and a poet and an actor and

flowers are slowly dying in my room

I'm rotting with them in dirty water

invariably for centuries

invariably for centuries.

16.08

cant wait to start feeling normal again I think to myself knowing that i have not once felt normal not at all my whole life not ever

It's all about the smallest things. The smell of coffee and the warm feeling, when the sunshine touches your skin while it's freezing. Simple.