Like Rimbaud
Who spins round your moon now I'm not here,
Who's axis stands full tilt, bent over
Backwards for your viewing pleasure.
noise dept.
YOU ARE THE REASON
🪼
todays bird

oozey mess
Xuebing Du
Peter Solarz

JBB: An Artblog!
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

@theartofmadeline

No title available
No title available
occasionally subtle
i don't do bad sauce passes

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day
tumblr dot com

shark vs the universe
Jules of Nature
seen from TĂĽrkiye
seen from Netherlands

seen from TĂĽrkiye

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Australia
seen from T1
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Iraq
seen from South Korea
seen from TĂĽrkiye
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Jordan
@andafterallcamelife
Like Rimbaud
Who spins round your moon now I'm not here,
Who's axis stands full tilt, bent over
Backwards for your viewing pleasure.
For My One and Only Love, Forever and Always.
Have you ever been in love,
Felt the stars fall,
Watched the day die,
The light flow and ebb,
Across the ceiling like shadows,
Like the whisper of a tide.
Did you know
Some things can't be stopped,
Only started again, infinitely,
Again and again,
Some things are inescapable,
Like gravity, like planets,
Two moons circling a dark sun,
An endless void, circling still,
dancing always along the edge,
Never quite falling in:
The perfect balancing act.
When you know, you know;
When you've felt, you feel,
Keep feeling,
And the morning comes,
As it always does, just so.
Some things
Can't ever
Be stopped.
"Meanwhile Rieux was listening to the curious buzzing sound that was rising from the streets as if in answer to the soughings of the plague." (104)
"The first month of the plague ended gloomily, with a violent recrudescence of the epidemic..." (92)
Currently Reading: The Plague by Albert Camus
Today in school I learned
I am not a good writer. I know that I am not a good writer because I take my body to class, take the necessary notes, and take in each word carefully; cautiously, like a breath, like each consonant contains power. Still it’s, “B”: better luck next time, or an “A-”: almost acceptable.Â
Maybe my criticisms aren’t caustic enough, my wit found wanting; barbs lacking the brutality necessary for adequate bite.
or,
Perhaps the broad chasm where my heart used to be has finally claimed all my creativity.
what she doesn’t know can’t(can it?)
She’d be proud if she knew. She doesn’t know though, what I don’t want her to know(anything, I don’t want her to know anything.) Maybe I’ll tell her though, let her know(everything, I could tell her everything.) She’d love me if she knew. She might(right ?)
overcast(or one more time with feeling)
I’ve decided I’m going to live(again) for rainy days. For how they make me feel. Alive (again).
Unnamed Poem 2
The hardest part: Waking up everyday Wanting to die when Your body wants To Live.
Unfinished Thought (1)
I don’t go there often, Anymore.
“#”
that moment when you realize that their pain is more real than yours could ever be, but: it still hurts.
THE(?) truth
But drugs aren’t the answer, are they? Death: is
Untitled Note (I)
A lot of it’s about change; things changing Those first breaths of chill air, And fragility; things are fragile Life and then Not.
10.26.18
“Two Motrin™ and a Tylenol™ . It does the same as the Percocet™.” “…” “You know what I mean.” Ha. Do I?Â
10.25.18
I write to save my life. How arrogant.