Blue Sunday

22.| Rebel without a cause. Hopeless romantic. Wild, crazy and in love with rock n roll.

[man0fmany]

Jimmy conjuring up souls

[astonepoet]

Una cosa que tienes que saber de mí es que no contesto el teléfono.

[ruhaniya]

[aquarionstarman]

This world isn't made for me

so I must make my own.

[nixscriptum]

[wideeyed-wonders]

Writing is about pleasure. Its about lounging on the carpet and licking crumbs of your fingers. writing is pacing on creaking floorboards, manic giggles and flushed faces. its blasting songs on repeat, jumping along like your room is a disco. its rambling to yourself and joking with people that dont exist. writing is pleasure.

Sure sometimes it makes you cry, maybe even break some stuff, but no joy can be aquired without a little sting

[wideeyed-wonders]

write the cringe. bathe in it, soak in it and put it on paper. cringe is where the truth is hidden. its where creativity slumbers and my number one way to get rid of writing blocks

[beingshehzil]

No pretense, no ulterior motives. Just a young honest heart!

Belo!!🩷 Posting a random one liner while I eat the best cheesecake of my life!!! Hope you’re having a good day!!!🩷

[nondelphic]

sometimes writing isn’t about talent. sometimes it’s about sitting in your chair and suffering for 45 minutes until a single sentence crawls out of your skull

[disgustinggf]

[mournfulroses]

Ioanna Tsatsou, translated by Jean Demos, from Selected Poems; "Root,"

[stuckinapril]

it’ll be fine I just have to be a shaking terrified animal about it

[mournfulroses]

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter featured in The Dark Interval: Letters on Death

[lifeinpoetry]

Oh! If you would only walk into this room again and touch me anywhere I swear I would not long for heaven or for earth more than I’d wish to stay there touched and touching you

— June Jordan, from "A Poem For Haruko 10/29," Haruko/Love Poems

[lemonpagezoso]

New trailer!

[litandlifequotes]

You think I’m not a goddess? Try me. This is a torch song. Touch me and you’ll burn.

— Margaret Atwood

[echoesoftheinfinite]

Made to love, but not to be loved; made to understand, but not to be understood; always the poet, never the poetry.