“Imagine having a conversation with Regina, she probably speaks in poetry.” I want to see her live badly!
One of these days your heart will just stop ticking, and they sorta just don’t find you ‘til your cubicle is reeking.
somethingforabrain: It’s this new thing where beds have fewer space to turn in. A cup of coffee soaked in white thickness from him. All of him. Corners in kitchens are home and showers are not to clean you because soaps and dropplets Make our bodies dirty You. The best kind of mudd that clean dirt that good love.
…the thing about literature and music. You use it as a way of defining yourself....– Laura Marling x (via paleasnight)
allmymetaphors: whenever i wanna cry i think about Van Gogh he was such a nice and lonely dude all he wanted was for people to love him he ate yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him oh god oh god that’s so sad i can’t breathe
Illusions are all that matter. Tis why I love what I do.
I just want to make it past the stars
A heavy pulse buried beneath the cage. It was there yesterday. A blow to the brain, crippled lungs, inebriated veins? She vanished somewhere or nowhere. Death is black, I’m sure. It’s magic.
My brain during the day: Potato, potato, ching chong tomato
My brain at night: I wonder why the Earth was placed exactly here and allowed us to provide a perfect climate to sustain human life.
Happiness is a heartache. I only live to fight for something like that.
apoetreflects: “Sometimes I see something so moving I know I’m not supposed to linger. See it and leave. If you stay too long, you wear out the wordless shock. Love it and trust it and leave.” —Don DeLillo, from Underworld (Scribner, 1997)
“I should have bought you flowers, I should have held your hand.”
I love sitting in your passenger seat. I often catch myself staring at you for long periods of time and smiling.
drunkbuttterfly: I hate that I still have dreams of him and her.
Paper weights, mint walls. Just Kids
somethingforabrain: There are few things more obnoxious than rich kids pretending to be poor.
Bluish: creep →
drunkbutterflys: I want to know her, I want to know what she likes, I want to be her friend, And we’ll do each other’s make up And we’ll play dress up, And we will have slumber parties, And I’ll know if she prefers coffee or tea, Her likes and dislikes will rub off on me, We’ll exchange whispers in each…
An ode to wax
I like to light candles. I like to light them and place them under objects to watch the shadows twitch. Sometimes I sit close and stare at the heat, the colors of fire are warm and comforting. When the wax gets hot enough and starts to melt, I dip my fingers in it just because I like the way it feels. Candles. They’re simple and delightful. They come in many different scents. I prefer one...
Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast...– The Winter of the Air (via sanmeetk)
The cross that hangs upon your ears, around your neck…on your shirt, skin and bumpers, it’s not enough to save you.
I love film. It’s my favorite form of art. I eat it up. To have the power of illusion is almost like magic. I have been studying video production for almost a year and I am completely in love with cinematography. I could always appreciate a good movie of any genre. I used to only watch movies just to subconsciously relate myself to characters and find some sort of answer. I would use movies...
Yeah, everybody leaves if they get the chance And this is my chance I get...– Radiohead, “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi” (via greatstrangedreams)
“Do you remember that day you fell out of my window?” “I sure do, you came jumping out after me.” “Well, you fell on the concrete and nearly broke your ass and you were bleeding all over the place and I rushed you off to the hospital.Do you remember that?” “Yes, I do.” “Well, there’s something I never told you about that night.” “What didn’t you tell me?” “While you were...
I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful,...– Neil Gaiman (via seabois)
Please forgive me if I don’t talk much at times. It’s loud enough in my head.
Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.– Robert Brault (via mercurieux)
I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hate myself. Make love to me like...– Buddy Wakefield, “We Were Emergencies” (via greatstrangedreams)
I honestly love handwritten letters.
'Basically, I wished that you loved me'
I like to think I’m a good girl. I like to think a pretty face couldn’t save anyone. I like to think you’re not real. I like to think distance should let you forget; should signal a new phase. I like to pretend things are fine. I like to cry..but I like to think I don’t.
This shit is making me tired! It’s making me tired, it’s making me tired, it’s making me tired!