Hello new followers :) Thank you for following me on my writing journey. If you have any questions, comments, want to chat, etc just shoot me a message. Enjoy your stay xx

Of Wednesdays


We’d lost sight of ourselves that afternoon amongst the poppies of Gloucestershire. We’d lain – lain for what seemed like ages, pale limbs engulfed in a sea of red. The varying hues of the surrounding atmosphere dripped like watered-down acrylics, painted hills that mimicked the curvature of your spine.

You’d taken me in your arms, head nuzzled against your bare chest. With the hand of a surgeon and heart of a poet, you’d learnt me; memorized the contour of my mouth and read my every bone as if it were braille.

You’d made wishes with your fingertips, a new promise with every caress. Enveloped by the evening sky, I was certain nothing was brighter in the world than that which you held in the confines of your chest. 

I’d brushed my lips between your shoulder blades as if I were charting the constellations; Caelum and Cancer, Columba and Cornis, every star with more ardor than the last. In that moment, I had discovered more on the maps of your flesh than in any book I had clutched to my chest. It seemed fitting, for all you had wanted to be was the sky. 



turn me inside-out and i will show you

every mark,

every limb torn from its socket

in an attempt to hold you,

make you stay.

i will point out scars like a trail -

i am breadcrumbs and leaky faucets,

black lung and

vacant apartment buildings.

take my spine and split me down the center,

crack me open to your favorite page -

read the passages that

pulse through my veins and 

quote me as if the words you

ground between your teeth sharpened

were a city of gold, a fountain of youth. 

read me to your children, grandchildren

i dare you - 

tell them of the woman you ransacked

like a village,

how you set fire to her soul and

watched her burn like salem.

i pray you remember

as elephants do

that the words from your lips are 

tainted - red,

and that the monsters in your favorite books

are much less frightening

than the man who reads of them. 

keewee-flavour: Do you have any suggestions for getting more involved in the tumblr writing community or even just forming relationships with other writers individually?

Well, I’m a bit out of touch because I became “involved” last fall around November - December when I was posting poetry constantly but here are some suggestions, love. 

  • Join the #TWC (Tumblr Writing Community) tag by tagging your work. Also, tag it as #spilledink #writing #rejectscorner, etc. 
  • Search the #TWC tag and see who else is writing, and if you like their work, give ‘em a follow!
  • Join TinyChat chat rooms that are posted every so often. That’s how I got to really “talk” with other Tumblr writers. madworlddiary posts them often, and she’s a sweetheart.
  • Introduce yourself, love! Are there other writers you admire? Let them know, and get to know each other. Don’t feel awkward sending Asks. A simple hello can be a great start to a friendship.
  • When there are contests, prompts and writing things going around, feel free to do the ones that catch your eye and tag your work accordingly to get it out there and meet others!

And to all writers reading this, feel free to follow Kesia! She’s a beautiful soul and she writes absolutely lovely. 

Good luck, dear. You’re already considered my friend xx

- Adriana

Turning a giant piece of cardboard into something rad Part I & II.

Cardboard, acrylic paint.
My hand is about to fall off.

Good vibes. This is so unlike my art lol - Adriana
knicholai-deactivated20140725: How many times have you fallen in love in the rain? Oh, what I meant to say is; How many times have you fallen in love with yourself in the rain?

Oh, wow. 

Story time:

Two or so weeks ago, it was pouring out and it was around 11 PM. I sat in bed contemplating whether I should remain wrapped in blankets or run outside and play in the rain. I thought about it for a few minutes, threw on a cami and shorts and skipped out the front door onto the driveway. I just stood and turned about in circles looking up at this dark, dark sky and it - it overwhelmed me. I couldn’t tell you prior to that moment when I’d last stood or even felt rain without trying to run from it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always enjoyed the rain, but I’d forgotten what it felt like - what it really felt like. 

A few minutes later, two of my siblings came out and reprimanded me, assuming there was an ulterior motive to my wanting to play in the rain. So, the moment was cut short. 

I didn’t exactly fall in love with myself that night, but I have a newfound appreciation for the exquisite, quiet beauty in everydayness. And for that, I am eternally grateful. 

- Adriana

Ode to a Writer.


you blink

vicodin and think 

the world will forget that 

your hands are

red heads of matchsticks 

waiting for friction.



hills like white elephants and watercolor sky

penned hemingway between sips of scotch one evening.


we proclaim

through lens to a landscape -

polaroid-preserve nature; a fine moment indeed.


we insist

to charred mountain-range faces,

to brooks silenced in concrete from…



morning -

and i can no

longer tell if

my heart races from

the coffee or the

sound of your voice. 

"Poema XX - Pablo Neruda"
Adriana Maria Long
(273) plays
notasocialjusticeblog: Just to let you know that for a while my passion for writing has been going down the drain. However, since finding your blog you are inspiring me to get my shit together and to try and get that passion and ability back. So thank you! x


The passion is always there, darling. Never doubt it. Never doubt yourself.

At times, passion may not burn as bright because our souls have been worn to the core. As writers, it happens. It is part of the craft. But, give it a bit of time to breathe. Fan it, tend to it. You will be surprised at how well patience and self-love rekindle the wildfire that runs through your veins.

Write always, much love.


intheemptyhours: Do you know of any other works dealing horror that have Lovecraftian themes, especially good books and music? I've been looking for Lovecraftish/creepy music etc that would fit his work and I'm not finding anything really. Any help?Thanks! :)

Oh, I love you guys so much for asking me things like this.

Good books that are Lovecraftian. Hmm. 

Well, I’ll give you a couple things/people I’ve read. Anyone else who’s read anything of the sort, please feel free to add to the list. 

Also, if we’re talking Lovecraftian themes, he deals with everything from sanity/insanity and isolation to misanthropy (basically, humanity sucks) and “out of the box” horror motifs - at least that’s what I’d call them. So, this list is a combination of all of these things and some aren’t necessarily something you’d read and think, “Oh, totally reminds me of Lovecraft” but they go off of these things.

  • Like I said in the last big post, definitely read some Algernon Blackwood. He is said to be one of Lovecraft’s inspirations. 
  • Eldritch Tales and In The Vault by H. P. Lovecraft 
  • There Are More Than Things by Jorge Luis Borges - he dedicated this to Lovecraft, I believe. I haven’t read anything else by him so I’m not sure what he’s like. 
  • Brave New World by Aldous Huxley is one of my favorite things. Very haunting, I think you’d like it. 
  • The Island of Dr. Moreau by H. G. Wells ruined my childhood. It’s excellent. Definitely read it. It kept me up forever with the imagery.
  • Again, Rod Serling has a bunch of work that can fit this. Also, watch The Twilight Zone because they have various episodes that could fit this and Serling is life. 

As for music, what kind of “creepy” are you looking for? The lyrics, or more so the actual music? I can think of a few things. When I think of creepy, it’s music that bothers me. 

  • Sergei Sergeyevich Prokofiev has classical music that fits the memo.
  • Iannis Xenakis has some strange-sounding things too.
  • Max Ablitzer - More haunting than creepy.
  • Camille Saint-Saens
  • Charlie Spring
  • Beautiful Boyz - Cocorosie (from Whore’s Glory, an incredibly insightful and stomach-knotting documentary on prostitution around the world - watch this too)

Thanks, and enjoy!

- Adriana

stormwarriors2: I have been trying to get into lovecraft, but I kind of have a fearing respect for the guy. I can read Edgar Allan Poe, and all the other 'creepy' poets, but I can manage to read them. Hell I read Heart of Darkness, (still have nightmares about it), and I've been trying to pick him up but I am afraid of what I might read. Do you recommend him?

Okay, if you’ve read Heart of Darkness, go read Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. It is, in part, a response to it and Achebe is incredible - the father of modern African writing. Wonderful book. 

Poe is one of my loves. I am obsessed with Edgar Allan Poe. Oh, I just love him dearly. I picked up a hardcover collection of his fiction - the spine is a disaster but I’m going to get it professionally repaired - in a little thrift shop in Kirksville, Missouri for $4.00. The last owner had read it in 1910. It’s beautiful. 

I do recommend H. P. Lovecraft. I’d also look into

  • Russell Banks - His work bothers the hell out of you in an excellent but most definitely not a “horror writing” way. His imagery is vivid, and a lot of his short stories deal with childhood, personal themes and morality. 
  • Stephen King - Because I mean…it’s Stephen King. I want to hug him forever for being incredible. 
  • Bram Stoker - Read Dracula. It’s my favorite novel. Oh, it’s lovely.
  • Mary Shelley - Read Frankenstein. Please. After Dracula though because I’m biased.
  • Algernon Blackwood - Horror writing master. Need I say more?
  • Dean Koontz - I have a love/hate relationship with him. Some of his novels, fantastic. Others, not so much. But definitely worth the read.
  • Watch The Twilight Zone - you know, the black and white show written by Rod Serling. That man was pure brilliance. Oh wow.

These are a bunch and they’re all pretty different and wonderful in their own ways. 


- Adriana

stormwarriors2: Do you read lovecraft?

Yes, and he’s darling. 

Also, on my old Facebook I made some post about Hemingway and somehow all the comments lead to me saying I’m going to name my first born son Cthulhu and summon him every morning by reciting the age old chant of: “Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn”.  

My dad saw it, commented “No”, and was incredibly unimpressed. 

- Adriana 

Anonymous: I see your eyes and read your words and there's a softness about you. And I know you can be fierce. But the part in your "about" where you bring out your claws to try to dissuade copiers and thieves- you could do that with the same softness, and be just as fierce. Consider it.

Thank you for this. This is very thoughtful. 

I think you’re right. I have a difficult time “bringing out my claws” because - well, I don’t know - I don’t want to come across as mean or angry or anything of the sort, and I worry that any time I am “fierce”, even in a joking sense, that it comes across as something else.

Thank you, again. I will work on changing it, and I’m going to keep thinking about this - about keeping the softness but still being “fierce”. 

- Adriana