• "An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way."
    Charles Bukowski  (via gebeine)

    (Source: observando, via langleav)

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  • (Source: fridayshow, via lamegrunge)

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  • The Argument Between The Boy And The Ocean

    AND MAYBE THE FLOODGATES OPENED AND I WASN’T READY FOR A SURGE.
    ALL THESE TINGLING SENSATIONS BROUGHT RECLAMATIONS FOR THOUGHTS I WASN’T READY TO PURGE.
    BUT FINALLY CALM AFTER CALM AFTER CHAOS OF THE STORM
    A SLIVER OF HOPE IS STARTING TO VIBRATE INTO A WARM

    EMBRACE. OF A HOPE THAT MAYBE THE SKIES WILL BE GREY
    INSTEAD OF A MOTTLED BLACK, TAUNTING WITH A LYING DAY

    and maybe my expectations will rise, like tide, steady and showing
    that instead of nimbus I avoid, it’s your face in the sky, glowering

    a WAY TO COME BACK AND FUZZLE UP A DOWNPOUR
    BUT IF YOU FOUND THE MEANS TO TALLY AGAINST ME WITH
    ABRASIVE WAVES AND THUNDEROUS CRIES ANY MORE
    MY ALREADY RECESSIVE MIND WILL WASH ME ASHORE.

    my eyes beyond rolled, and my stature beyond broken
    slighter sights beckoned and called out to caress my eyes swollen
    my clamouring at sea to shoot at the sky dissipated the dark
    tore a hole so large that I can see the sun, finally, my mark.

    I will learn to trust to traverse the water, ever-trusting, ever farther
    but for now I learn at least that beyond the treacherous waters there is a fire
    so strong it will beat in luminance and hope and in prayer
    that I will learn to see the Light beyond the Dark, the blue skies in Deep Water.

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  • danieltoumine:

    a writer gets naked for a living

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  • Pitter patter goes the rain, thunder and lightning accompanying the pain
    of being alone for once in this bed, completely ignored; a pain in the head

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  • fuglyselfie:

    I feel like society puts a lot of pressure on people and sets some pretty tight boundaries when it comes to personal choise, for example when you get a wedding invitation and they ask you “chicken or fish”, what if I want both, I’m a grown man I need both my protein and omega oils

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  • (via fuglyselfie)

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  • I used to have gardens inside me where only ash and asphalt knew.
    When you left, the seedlings left a rot so strong it killed everything when wind blew.

  • Hauntings (2/5): The Procession

    tantumvocem:

    She’s been restless lately and deemed that sitting down wasn’t enough.

    I took a gratuitous walk with her on my shoulders bearing on me, clunking my stature closer to the ground. If she gave me any more baggage, she would’ve been like the planes that I could never give her; she found the heights of soaring in another one’s eyes simultaneously dragging me down with the weight of her dreams, despised. To the end of the day, be it for running, laying, or waiting, her impression still sinks into my collar bones; and my skin still misses her bruises. I carry her everywhere I go, and so we decide to visit her tainted places.

    She’s been hungry for more of the tear-induced spit that bubbled in her memory.

    Feet raising forward and forward, I’m held like a puppet to tend to a stringless coward. I walk and see the dark in the spots of the places where happier spirits used to rest; the swirling hurricanes that blew past every nerve ending on me; the massive stone figures that casted shadows that overlay the joyous ghosts; I read the golem figures’ emblems and they say hindsight.

    She found that it wasn’t enough to wade through the places, instead my mind.

    Surreal incorporeality, my being permeates through figures overcasted with a hazy glow around it; I’m in my world perverted with a sleazy unsure-ness about it. At a hundred times simultaneously, the ghosts dance and shout and fight and banter and laugh all around me, zooming in to different frequencies and speeds I cannot recognise. They are from happier times and now it seems all the spectres will ever have are the repetitions of their childish demeanour.

    (via tantumvocem)

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  • (via c-isnenegro)

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