December 2011
6 tags
I hated your fake smiles,
And I hated mine more.
So I sewed our lips shut
Into a thin line of indifference:
All black thread and silence.
“Every reader, as he reads, is actually the reader of himself. The writer’s work...”
– Marcel Proust (via cultureofresistance)
Hm. I dunno if I agree with this, but it is interesting.
Building coffins
saintdavid:
Tender brick laid stone by stone in capillary patterns seizing the marble crescent-shine vessel Building coffins on top Of graveyard ceremonies Watch the bats decry The coming of something Like something like something Ominous, haunting There is a ghost slipping his hand up my skirt Funeral-dirge runaways— COME BACK CHILDREN! Release the folly back To the...
If Literature generated catchphrases →
Hah! This is too good.
Metronome
burningmuse:
Editor’s Note: Short, but deep.
irrelevanceisbliss:
Before you, my heart beat on like a metronome. It ticked so steadily, but it pulsed alone; The rhythmic repetition of a loveless drone. Before you, my life was structured like a metronome.
Spilled Ink: Why'd You Sing Hallelujah? →
theidiotmanifesto:
An ocean glass stained red, you bleed into me, a hand to keep. Soaked up my heart and fed my organs to your every sea flower, That would dare to caress your delicate ankles, sea deep hurt.
Beneath the sand I long ago poured into a moon blinding white, My lips cannot…
I love Damien Rice. And this is fantastic.
Fairytales and Devastation: A Note I just posted... →
mermaidsandearthquakes:
There, I said it. I can’t stand a lot of the people I know who are “Christians”. Which, I know, is going to prove to be rather hypocritical in the next paragraphs, but I’m admitting right now I don’t have it all figured out. Over the last few years - the last 6 months especially - I’ve come to…
I can relate to a lot of this. Too much of it, in fact.
I've decided...
aclockwerkkroww:
That one of these days, she and I are going to go through our archives and transcribe everything from Skype, Tumblr, phones and memories onto paper, and create a series of Dear ______ letters, and then tuck them away in a box so that one day, we can look back at our memories and feel them between our fingertips.
This is a really good idea.
Singing of Love at Dawn: the Bubblemaker's... →
awaitingthebreakofthesun:
The Bubblemaker’s daughter lives in the rain while he twists gears around and counts down from the taller numbers to small. Her being is as simple as a dandelion seed, airborne from a first and halting breath.
Through closing eyes as she whispers to a blustery gale on a day when candied yellow…
This is lovely.
“I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart.”
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (via rosenplantzandguildenfern)
And why would they ever want to be?
1 tag
5 tags
Watchohteaheart:
1beautiful-mess:
from My Living Room Productions
Myself and three friends having fun. (:
Acapella version of Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the people my friends and I recorded today. Check it out!
This is what I did today. Enjoy. :)
I need more storage space for my books.
And more books.
3 tags
Splattered Ink
theidiotmanifesto:
Cut shrill past the eyes of a man in colour, To see so sharp into light named forlorn past. Tomorrow’s dark unfavoured by the eclipse That would beg to shine past any sunburnt star.
No morn to carve a scar into, he sees in white And suffers through all that would sing never. A bite ever heavy upon lips of stained deep red, Fallen moon to give birth to a universe unseen.
Lover...
Jet of Blood: And when you walk down the street,... →
jetofblood:
My brother and I quit the soporific, thermal intimacies of that Hudson living room for the padding of feet (which is intimate in itself, being the walk of two brothers through the night) spiked laterally nipping at concrete slabs, the floor of the earth in civilization: we wandered up the road…
It’s a bit of a long read, but well worth it.
rhetoricbedamned:
noweveryonehatesme:
...
oh, the places you'll go:... →
em-catherine:
i am broken. oh, my Jesus, i am broken in one hundred thousand ways. i do not know how to step, how to put one foot in front of the another i am scattered in one hundred thousand pieces across the floor, under the table, stuck in each crevice in the room. oh, my Jesus, i am broken. i am no…
Kind
talkativolive:
And it’s not very difficult, to recognize the beat of another’s heart and to love it, to want to make it yours-want it to depend on the beat of yours.
1beautiful-mess:
”I have some definite views about the de-Christianizing of the church. I believe that there are many accommodating preachers, and too many practitioners in the church who are not believers. Jesus Christ did not say ‘Go into all the world and tell the world that it is quite right.’ The Gospel is something completely different. In fact, it is directly opposed to the world.” -...
6 tags
Today
I got the White Album on vinyl and the complete works of ee. Cummings. Conclusion? I have the best girlfriend ever.
Quadriplegic Ego: Confession, Creature (1) →
quadriplegicego:
As of late, I have been prodded with innate, provoking premonitions: It won’t be long until I meet my end; whether so viciously violent, or contentedly calm—, it won’t be long… I have some wicked thoughts to confess; such thoughts that, I believe, are what appear to be killing me—or…
I like this. This is different. It feels right, the words running in shapes about...
“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh?” he whispered.
“Yes, Piglet?”...”
– A. A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh (via pavorst)
The Idiot Manifesto: Where The Wounds Are →
theidiotmanifesto:
Let me destroy true mind’s song of lost fate. Such sore delight will die one day, to smile So lovely and delicate, void, blank slate – My true heart’s love will fade to ever beguile.
After my first taste of a siren’s last kiss – I sung so loudly, the ocean’s embrace Wishing me a sleep…
What. Alright, this lady needs to write more sonnets. This is absolutely...
7 tags
I am simply me.
I write, of course. Otherwise almost none of you would even be here. It’s pretty poor stuff, full of love and sadness and hope and gladness and even God. It doesn’t surprise me when someone says they don’t care for my work. Honestly, I wish it happened more. But some of you still bother to put up with my frightfully erratic output and still take the time to read a few things...
8 tags
Murdering the First Person
I am false familiarity, the finale of stories told in the midst of pale snow by the old grandmother with the young soul. I am poetry spoken by lovers in quiet nights with refrains of chaste kisses and verses written by fingertips. I am upward glances of the young as Mom and Dad act out a tragedy of a farce. I am the innocence of lust and the shame of virtue. I am a soul with a body. I am...
1 tag
9 tags
Upon Viewing....No 2.
and her face was a renaissance painting. each tender glance a largesse of affection for the open h. d. e e a t r yet, cheapened by too too b r o a d a stroking brushhhh, the quiet seemed a great din a murder in glances towards the peaceless hushhhh. for, like improvised silver tones to ...
The Diary Kinetic: Letters of Lonely Sleep. →
cancer-stick:
My lust for you is ravenous,
I long for every blind caress,
Of the feel of soft embrace,
To see the gasp upon your face,
With every curve my fingers trace,
Twirling your hair like lover’s lace,
Writhing as the leaves on wind,
Where you end I do begin,
Clasping fingers lost in…
set yourself aside
lifeencoded:
feedback from a lonely song breaks me into tiny shards on a winding road which catch in your headlights
laughter goes straight to my head an intoxicating wine a distraction from pain’s white noise
smiles faces suspended in amber specters of lost moments clinging to the...
passthemayo:
I think that watching someone else’s heart break and not being able to do anything about it is just as bad as being heartbroken yourself, especially when it’s someone you really admire :(
“It’s not that we have to quit this life one day, it’s how many things we have to...”
– Roman Payne, Hope and Despair (via pavorst)
soulpensieve:
“You’re such a good friend,” she said.
She always did know how to slit his soul’s wrists.
tinderheart:
in a world so full of darkness where will we find light?
i’ve been told the absence of the sun is what brings us the moon
but when he’s new how shall we see in the blackness of the night?
and when she’s gone forever, he surely cannot stay awake all day
will he replace her with a new star when his love fades to oblivion?
or will we all simply learn to live in the darkness of...
1 tag
“We have to create. It is the only thing louder than destruction.”
– Andrea Gibson (via elige)
“Like the waters flooding the desert
Like the sunrise showing all things
Where...”
– Gungor, When Death Dies. (via kaileymackenzie)
