chess of thrones

TAGGED BY: @unusuallygifted

TAGGING: @abluefaze @exulantis @evegranger @occultistcunt @ohfiendangelical

T.S. ELIOT, “THE WASTELAND” PT. 2: A GAME OF CHESS: BOLD THE ONES THAT APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

A Game of Chess • A BURNISHED THRONE • GLOWED ON THE MARBLE • standards wrought with fruited vines • a golden Cupidon peeped out • (ANOTHER HID HIS EYES BEHIND HIS WING) • glitter of her jewelsvials of ivory and coloured glass strange synthetic perfumes TROUBLED, CONFUSED / AND DROWNED THE SENSE IN ODOURSSTIRRED BY THE AIR / THAT FRESHENED FROM THE WINDOW • Huge sea wood fed with copper • Burnished green and orange • framed by the coloured stone • YET THERE THE NIGHTINGALE / FILLED ALL THE DESERT WITH INVIOLABLE VOICE • And still she cried, and still the world pursues • withered stumps of time •Leaned out, leaning, hushing • Footsteps shuffled on the stair • her hair / Spread out in fiery points • GLOWED INTO WORDS, THEN WOULD BE SAVAGELY STILL. • My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. • Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. • WHAT ARE YOU THINKING OF? WHAT THINKING? WHAT? • I NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. THINK. • I think we are in rats’ alley• WHERE THE DEAD MEN LOST THEIR BONES. • “WHAT IS THAT NOISE?” • The wind under the door. • “What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?” • Nothing again nothing. • “Do / You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember / Nothing?” • “Are you alive. or not? Is there nothing in your head?” • “WHAT SHALL I DO NOW? WHAT SHALL I DO? • I SHALL RUSH OUT AS I AM, AND WALK THE STREET / WITH MY HAIR DOWN, SO. • Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. • HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME • YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED, I SAID, TO LOOK SO ANTIQUE.

TAGGED BY: stolen from somewhere on my dash

TAGGING: everyone!

T.S. ELIOT, “THE WASTELAND” PT. 2: A GAME OF CHESS: BOLD THE ONES THAT APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

A Game of Chess • A BURNISHED THRONE • GLOWED ON THE MARBLE • standards wrought with fruited vines • a golden Cupidon peeped out • (ANOTHER HID HIS EYES BEHIND HIS WING) • glitter of her jewels • vials of ivory and coloured glass • strange synthetic perfumes • TROUBLED, CONFUSED / AND DROWNED THE SENSE IN ODOURS • STIRRED BY THE AIR / THAT FRESHENED FROM THE WINDOW • Huge sea wood fed with copper • Burnished green and orange • framed by the coloured stone • YET THERE THE NIGHTINGALE / FILLED ALL THE DESERT WITH INVIOLABLE VOICE • And still she cried, and still the world pursues • withered stumps of time •Leaned out, leaning, hushing • Footsteps shuffled on the stairher hair / Spread out in fiery points • GLOWED INTO WORDS, THEN WOULD BE SAVAGELY STILL. • My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. • Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. •WHAT ARE YOU THINKING OF? WHAT THINKING? WHAT? • I NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. THINK. • I think we are in rats’ alley• WHERE THE DEAD MEN LOST THEIR BONES. • “WHAT IS THAT NOISE?” • The wind under the door. • “What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?” • Nothing again nothing. • “Do / You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember / Nothing?” • “Are you alive. or not?Is there nothing in your head?” • “WHAT SHALL I DO NOW? WHAT SHALL I DO? • I SHALL RUSH OUT AS I AM, AND WALK THE STREET / WITH MY HAIR DOWN, SO. •Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. • HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME • YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED, I SAID, TO LOOK SO ANTIQUE.

TAGGED BY: @quantcm ( ey-yo )

TAGGING: @adventuresstrange / @toughlittleguy @traumeriin @ivory-rabbit @theholisticdetective @daedaluscried @noxtears and anyone else who wants to

T.S. ELIOT, “THE WASTELAND” PT. 2: A GAME OF CHESS: BOLD THE ONES THAT APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

A Game of Chess • A BURNISHED THRONE • GLOWED ON THE MARBLE • standards wrought with fruited vines • a golden Cupidon peeped out • (ANOTHER HID HIS EYES BEHIND HIS WING) • glitter of her jewels • vials of ivory and coloured glass • strange synthetic perfumes TROUBLED, CONFUSED / AND DROWNED THE SENSE IN ODOURSSTIRRED BY THE AIR / THAT FRESHENED FROM THE WINDOW Huge sea wood fed with copper Burnished green and orange framed by the coloured stone • YET THERE THE NIGHTINGALE / FILLED ALL THE DESERT WITH INVIOLABLE VOICE • And still she cried, and still the world pursues • withered stumps of time • Leaned out, leaning, hushing Footsteps shuffled on the stair • her hair / Spread out in fiery points • GLOWED INTO WORDS, THEN WOULD BE SAVAGELY STILL. • My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. • Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. WHAT ARE YOU THINKING OF? WHAT THINKING? WHAT? • I NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. THINK. • I think we are in rats’ alley • WHERE THE DEAD MEN LOST THEIR BONES. “WHAT IS THAT NOISE?” • The wind under the door. • “What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?” • Nothing again nothing. • “Do / You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember / Nothing?” • “Are you alive. or not? Is there nothing in your head?” • “WHAT SHALL I DO NOW? WHAT SHALL I DO? I SHALL RUSH OUT AS I AM, AND WALK THE STREET / WITH MY HAIR DOWN, SO. • Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. • HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME • YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED, I SAID, TO LOOK SO ANTIQUE.

TAGGED BY: @quantcm
TAGGING: @dominusmontis@caediteos@braverytaught@ofanimagi@thefreshprinceofdownton@ofnxbility

T.S. ELIOT, “THE WASTELAND” PT. 2: A GAME OF CHESS: BOLD THE ONES THAT APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

A Game of ChessA BURNISHED THRONEGLOWED ON THE MARBLE • standards wrought with fruited vines • a golden Cupidon peeped out • (ANOTHER HID HIS EYES BEHIND HIS WING) • glitter of her jewelsvials of ivory and coloured glass strange synthetic perfumes TROUBLED, CONFUSED / AND DROWNED THE SENSE IN ODOURS • STIRRED BY THE AIR / THAT FRESHENED FROM THE WINDOW • Huge sea wood fed with copper • Burnished green and orangeframed by the coloured stone• YET THERE THE NIGHTINGALE / FILLED ALL THE DESERT WITH INVIOLABLE VOICEAnd still she cried, and still the world pursues withered stumps of timeLeaned out, leaning, hushingFootsteps shuffled on the stairher hair / Spread out in fiery points GLOWED INTO WORDS, THEN WOULD BE SAVAGELY STILL. • My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.WHAT ARE YOU THINKING OF? WHAT THINKING? WHAT?I NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. THINK. • I think we are in rats’ alley •WHERE THE DEAD MEN LOST THEIR BONES. • “WHAT IS THAT NOISE?” • The wind under the door. • “What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?” • Nothing again nothing. • “Do / You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember / Nothing?” • “Are you alive. or not? Is there nothing in your head?” • “WHAT SHALL I DO NOW? WHAT SHALL I DO? • I SHALL RUSH OUT AS I AM, AND WALK THE STREET / WITH MY HAIR DOWN, SO. • Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. • HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIMEYOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED, I SAID, TO LOOK SO ANTIQUE.

TAGGED BY: @sanctamater (ayyyy)

TAGGING: @unusuallygifted, @motherdcarest, @missperegcine, @diemuttergans, @perignotus and anyone else!

T.S. ELIOT, “THE WASTELAND” PT. 2: A GAME OF CHESS: BOLD THE ONES THAT APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

A Game of Chess • A BURNISHED THRONE • GLOWED ON THE MARBLE • standards wrought with fruited vines • a golden Cupidon peeped out • (ANOTHER HID HIS EYES BEHIND HIS WING) • glitter of her jewels • vials of ivory and coloured glass strange synthetic perfumes • TROUBLED, CONFUSED / AND DROWNED THE SENSE IN ODOURS • STIRRED BY THE AIR / THAT FRESHENED FROM THE WINDOW • Huge sea wood fed with copper • Burnished green and orangeframed by the coloured stone • YET THERE THE NIGHTINGALE / FILLED ALL THE DESERT WITH INVIOLABLE VOICE • And still she cried, and still the world pursues • withered stumps of time • Leaned out, leaning, hushing • Footsteps shuffled on the stair • her hair / Spread out in fiery points GLOWED INTO WORDS, THEN WOULD BE SAVAGELY STILL. • My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. • Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. • WHAT ARE YOU THINKING OF?WHAT THINKING? WHAT? • I NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. THINK. • I think we are in rats’ alley • WHERE THE DEAD MEN LOST THEIR BONES. • “WHAT IS THAT NOISE?”The wind under the door. • “What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?” • Nothing again nothing. • “Do / You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember / Nothing?” • “Are you alive. or not? Is there nothing in your head?” • “WHAT SHALL I DO NOW? WHAT SHALL I DO? • I SHALL RUSH OUT AS I AM, AND WALK THE STREET / WITH MY HAIR DOWN, SO. • Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. • HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIMEYOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED, I SAID, TO LOOK SO ANTIQUE.

TAGGED BY: @unusuallygifted (eyyy)

TAGGING: @charismatiiic @capnnjack / @woreglasses @anastcsie @luxche @skilledquill @subsolanus

T.S. ELIOT, “THE WASTELAND” PT. 2: A GAME OF CHESS: BOLD THE ONES THAT APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

A Game of Chess • A BURNISHED THRONE • GLOWED ON THE MARBLE • standards wrought with fruited vines • a golden Cupidon peeped out • (ANOTHER HID HIS EYES BEHIND HIS WING) • glitter of her jewels • vials of ivory and coloured glass • strange synthetic perfumes • TROUBLED, CONFUSED / AND DROWNED THE SENSE IN ODOURS • STIRRED BY THE AIR / THAT FRESHENED FROM THE WINDOW Huge sea wood fed with copper • Burnished green and orange • framed by the coloured stone • YET THERE THE NIGHTINGALE / FILLED ALL THE DESERT WITH INVIOLABLE VOICE • And still she cried, and still the world pursues • withered stumps of time •Leaned out, leaning, hushing Footsteps shuffled on the stair • her hair / Spread out in fiery points • GLOWED INTO WORDS, THEN WOULD BE SAVAGELY STILL. • My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. WHAT ARE YOU THINKING OF? WHAT THINKING? WHAT? • I NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. THINK. • I think we are in rats’ alley• WHERE THE DEAD MEN LOST THEIR BONES. “WHAT IS THAT NOISE?” • The wind under the door. • “What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?” • Nothing again nothing. • “Do / You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember / Nothing?” • “Are you alive. or not? Is there nothing in your head?” • “WHAT SHALL I DO NOW? WHAT SHALL I DO? I SHALL RUSH OUT AS I AM, AND WALK THE STREET / WITH MY HAIR DOWN, SO. Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. • HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME • YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED, I SAID, TO LOOK SO ANTIQUE.