January 2012
“I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. I...”
– Pablo Neruda (via musingsinfemininity)
“I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see...”
– Egon Schiele (via slippyslop)
“At the age of six I wanted to be a cook. At seven I wanted to be Napoleon. And...”
– (via adonisdream)
so much joy it hurts: [i cannot say goodbye.... →
kathleenjoy:
I cannot say goodbye. really, i should be able to. really i am still a stranger to you. and i should be able to say goodbye. the way a stranger would. i can always see them coming. giant boulders thundering across your room towards me. every time i open my mouth. an avalanche. every time i turn…
let there be light: A murmur on my neck “Sometimes... →
atomiclanterns:
A murmur on my neck “Sometimes my bones make sounds I didn’t know could exist floor boards and volcanoes erupting” I know the feeling when knots burst like lava and trickle down your spine like dripping wax
It’s like the feeling when someone whispers in your eyes and it tickles and you’re not…
so much joy it hurts: Darling, Alex Dimitrov →
kathleenjoy:
The days fall out of your pockets one after the other. Soon you’ll need a new jacket with tougher leather and seams no one has felt. Soon you’ll bring the old books into your bed and sleep easy and alone. It must be December again. This must be the part of the story where you refuse to say…
December 2011
Flight, Fight Or
rabbit-light:
Every rearview a lovescape of ex-towns. Bumper to bumper dear what do you heart? I favor my left side I favor leaving. My pheasants can fly but they’d rather run. Never said feather oars or father me. Where recipe calls for apricots try fog. There should have been a strap from yoke to harness. For record whatever I never kissed the bride. Here lies the sigh begun nine lines ago. I...
