I'd Rather Be Introverting

Achilles

roses are red

wine-dark is the sea

my boyfriend is dead

time for a killing spree

Oedipus

roses are red

a hue like no other

you know, valentine,

you’re just like my mother?

Catullus

my girl’s eyes are swollen

her sparrow is dead

but is that just a metaphor

for my dick instead?

Cato

roses are red

space is black like a void

who cares about love

Roses are red

like bitter regret 

I’m god of the ocean 

let me make you wet ;)

Odysseus

My wife is at home

but babe, let’s forget her; 

I’ll show you a good time

‘cause Nobody’s better

Athena 

Roses are red

violets are red 

everything is red 

I love war

Apollo

Roses are red

but I haven’t got any

all of my lovers

have turned into botany

Prometheus

I’ve bought you some roses

‘cause babe, I’m a giver

say you’ll be mine

I’ll really de-liver

Zeus

Roses are red

violets are blue

Roses are red, 

And so is my blood.

What the fuck Brutus?

I thought we were good! 

Pompey

Roses are red,

My pate’s on a plate.

Ptolemy got head

On our first date. 

Crassus

Gold is not red, 

It’s yellow like honey. 

Your house is on fire,

So give me your money. 

Porcia

Embers are red,

The hottest fire’s blue.

I swallowed these coals

So you’d know I was true. 

Cato the Younger

Entrails are red.

You can’t keep me in stitches. 

I ripped my guts open.

Fuck all you bitches. 

Catilina

I see two bodies. 

They’re me and you. 

I fucked a Vestal. 

I fucked your dad, too. 

Clodius 

Roses are red, 

I have three hot sisses.  

I put on a dress

And I nailed Caesar’s missus. 

Violets are indigo,

Roses are crimson.

Silver my tongue is,

Roses are red,

And violets bucolic. 

I’m Marcus Antonius

And I’m an alcoholic. 

Ovid

Roses are red

I’m in exile

I pissed off Augustus

I might be here a while

Virgil

:To be edited:

Roses are red?

Please burn this poem

After I’m dead.

Sappho

Roses are red

Women are hot

I’m really fucking gay

Don’t act like I’m not

Dido

My blood is red

You think you’re a hero?

I hope you drown

URL Moodboards:  

“We’re not really people, we’re just thoughts.”

“What if this is all a dream of some higher being and none of us really exist?”

“What if no one I’ve ever met really exists and this is all a delusion?”

Like… people write books on this shit. Long-ass boring books. 

And I’m just like… 

pleasure, in the fun late-capitalism hellhole of present-day america, is treated like a luxury.  it’s expensive.  it’s frivolous.  it’s guilty.  if we want to eat ice cream out of the carton and be socially acceptable at the same time, we’d better have earned that ice cream.  maybe by like running a marathon or getting dumped by an asshole.  if we’re going to duck into the corner store and buy fresh flowers, it’s because we’ve had a hard week, not because flowers are nice.  we can take a day off work, but only if we’re sick.  we have to suffer before we’re allowed extra kindness.

in this equation pleasure is optional (irresponsible, even), except when it’s a balm for suffering.

however!  we need pleasure to live.  a life without nice feelings in it is like a diet with no vitamins in it.  it’ll make you sick and eventually it’ll kill you.  we know this because people with depression stop feeling pleasure, and they often kill themselves.  left untreated, depression is a fatal disease.

pleasure is not optional.  pleasure is not a luxury.  without it, we die.  that is literally the opposite of a luxury.

because pleasure is treated like a luxury, and priced accordingly, it is fucking hard to get.  it’s hard to take time to relax and see loved ones when corporations aren’t required to offer paid vacation.  it’s hard to buy that special face scrub or art print or pretty yarn when it costs $35 and student loans are breathing down your neck.  so pleasure gets saved up for when things are really bad.  pleasure gets budgeted.  pleasure, once again, becomes something we have to earn by abstaining and hurting and gritting our teeth.

do this to people long enough and pleasure becomes potently associated with guilt.  this thing we need desperately to stay alive is suddenly something we can’t seek out without looking over our shoulder and wondering if we’re allowed to have it.

that’s why it’s so important that we talk about self care, and tell ourselves and each other that it is okay to do things that feel good.  it is necessary to do things that feel good.  we have to uncouple suffering and pleasure, because the idea that we have to earn feeling good by first feeling bad is monstrous and wrong.

Originally posted by lizbunny

Originally posted by gmt1999

like

“when you’re just trying to do trade at the agora and that weird cynic philosopher is jerking off in public again”

“when you go to the theater and sophocles is killing you with those tragic feels”

“when your community votes to ostracize you for ten years”

“when rome conquers your people and steals all of your culture”

not crying for weeks and weeks on end until one day, you’re breaking down over something that isn’t actually worth getting upset about

not being able to tell if your feelings for people are platonic or romantic or if you’re just lonely

instead of caring too much, you don’t care at all about anything

not being able to process anything going on in your life and when you try, your brain stalls out

losing your train of thought every five seconds, so when you try to have a conversation, you have to pause and remember what you were trying to say

word vomiting