"A monster without a name
can still be given one and tamed."

The human brain relies on linguistics  (via cephalopoet)

(via cephalopoet)

wallflowerrr:

I’m sinking like a stone in the sea.

wallflowerrr:

I’m sinking like a stone in the sea.

(Source: dangergays, via clarissewasreal)

Jaden Smith Tweets Deconstructed

wordsoftakumi:

1.) If Newborn Babies Could Speak They Would Be The Most Intelligent Beings On Planet Earth

They would be fearless.
They would have no idea of originality
and be unafraid of repeating ideas.
Imagine standing mahogany still
when faced with failing.
No one has told them the truth
of how the world…

"Hell is when the people you love the most reach right into your soul and rip it out of you. And they do it because they can."

Jess Rothenberg, The Catastrophic History of You and Me  (via ding-ang-bato)

(Source: larmoyante, via alteredflaws)

"And how odd it is
to be haunted by someone
that is still alive."

I Guess the Old You is a Ghost (#589: June 25, 2014)

(Source: write2014, via thetalltwig)

"The thing about Truth
Like hot air, rising from
The depths of the Earth
It always finds a way out."

Morgan Anderson - “Liberation”

"Tell the truth, or someone will tell it for you."

Stephanie Klein (via observando)

(via alteredflaws)

(Source: eoix, via hymnology)

art meme: spring and winter in paris

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” ― Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

(Source: suammetuit, via birthmark-poetry)

"

i. when they ask where it hurts, you go home
and knock on your bones and they sound
so hollow, you will whisper that it hurts
everywhere, everywhere
everywhere

ii. your lips will taste like fireball whiskey
and the night will be so wild you cannot tame
your darkness and when they ask you why you
are trying to drown memories or maybe just
yourself, laugh like a maniac, do not tell them you
are just trying to fill an emptiness so threatening
it has started to smell like dead bodies, do not say
you are just done with faking being happy every day
every day every single goddamn day

iii. when you kiss people you don’t care about
and claw your way out of their covers
or when you stay home from parties and shut yourself
behind thick doors and lose every number
or however you choose to lay down your spine as dynamite
so you can selfdestruct socially
when they ask you why you’re doing this to them say you’re
just having a bad day don’t tell them you’re not good enough
to be with them don’t say that people make you sad don’t say
you think each person you meet secretly hates you
don’t say you’re sick of people everyone
every one every single person

iv. four is the number of death when they ask why you
smell of it
and why your smile doesn’t actually look right
on your lips
say you’re tired
don’t tell them you’re tired of everything every leaf every
atom every fucking sad poem every stupid shitty thing on this
too-loud planet with shitty people and shitty poets and shitty
friends and shitty feelings just seriously
every thing

v. when they ask you what’s the matter
lock the answers behind your broken teeth, swallow the key,
feel it hit your stomach while you rip lies out of yourself,
take your bloody fingers, hide them, maybe wipe them off
on the corners of your shirt, do not tell them you are the ice of
saturn’s rings
just show them the best impression of happy you can manage
and say
nothing,
nothing
nothing.

"

Bad nights make poets write. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

(via mangled-passion)

dimmer:

grunge/vintage blog

dimmer:

grunge/vintage blog

(Source: a-moment-of-clarity)

hope-love-believe-live:

 

hope-love-believe-live:

 

(Source: pheed.com, via metaphorsandmadness)

lntended:

Front Porch Step // Drown

lntended:

Front Porch Step // Drown

(Source: lntended, via hymnology)

(Source: deathy, via s-k-e-t-c-h-e-d)

"

Then there is the boy you can never stop thinking about. Whenever you see his name, it trips you up. Even if it’s one that belongs to many others, even if he belongs to someone else.

You know he is a symbol of your weakness, your Kryptonite. How he rushes in like wildfire and burns through everything you worked so hard to build since he last left you in ashes.

"

Lang Leav (Signposts, Lullabies)

(Source: langleav, via langleav)