February 2012
I will continue to make excuses because, though I see the reasoning and am attempting to make peace with the places reasoning is not, I want more. My chest has been hurting.
“My throat is a winding staircase
of stone, where words pace up
to my teeth’s...”
– Kristiana Rae Colón, The Pilgrimage of Mouths (via grammatolatry)
lol
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smh tbh
“I was an optimist who loved women, two things that never failed to get me into...”
– Jonathan Carroll, Kissing the Beehive (via holdonmagnolia)
“And men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”
– The Silver Chair, by C. S. Lewis (via tendrecoeur)
1 tag
AN UNFINISHED POEM THAT I WROTE A FEW HOURS AGO
“A crooked permanence”
Here, branches dig beneath loss, an open window, burrow belly of a bottle, brambles grown where tracks used to be. I will race you, he said. There, the roots of his hair receding. I will erase you, he said. A crooked permanence, a twisting vine, a tight hold, a cold steadiness, a firm readiness, a weak blow, a “field below,” a slow decay. His sick...
acreatureyoudontknow:
moustachekurt:
...
WRITE ME A LETTER (anonymous or not)
Dear ______,
I ____ you. You have a nice ______. You make me _______. You should _______. Someday I will ______. You + me = ________. If I saw you now I’d __________. I want to ________ you. I would build a _______ just for you. If I could sing you any song it would be _________. We could __________ under the stars. Love, _______________ (P.S. ______________.)
I’m getting there. There are a few fragmented thoughts that could become a poem waiting in a draft message on my phone. I’ve written two stories since January, and I’m working on them. I’m working on a lot of things. Tomorrow can be a good day. Tomorrow can be a great day. I’m getting there. I don’t know how to do this.
“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”
– Virginia Woolf (via vashti)
Anonymous asked: Have you ever thought about posting a picture of a page of your journal on here?
“I love her and that’s the beginning and end of everything.”
– F. Scott Fitzgerald (via saddest-summer)
iwrotesins:
i’m going to write a book and make the paper out of onions so everyone will cry and think i’m the best author ever
