shark vs the universe
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Xuebing Du
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Three Goblin Art
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NASA
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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@belle-parole
Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.
Kait Rokowski (via
lazypacific
)
أبدا، لا ينتهي شيء بطريقة شاعرية. تنتهي القصة ثم نصنع شعرا منها. كل تلك الدماء لم تكن جميلة قط. كانت حمراء فقط.
(via nizariat)
Don’t pick, kill and destroy flowers to make me happy I’ve never wanted dying nature in my hands instead take my hand, and lead me to the flower garden with all these flowers, where hope and souls are blossoming among us There, will you find my appreciation
Viola CN (via wnq-writers)
What a privilege it was to matter to you.
Beau Taplin • Privilege (via kvtes)
She’s never where she is. She’s only inside her head.
Janet Fitch, White Oleander (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
Won’t you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you.
Richard B. Sheridan 1751-1816 (via karibu-nyumbani)
Very often we don’t go elsewhere because we are looking for another person. We go elsewhere because we are looking for another self. It isn’t so much that we want to leave the person we are with as we want to leave the person we have become.
Esther Perel (via quotemadness)
You were better to the ones that were worse for you. And worse to the one that was better for you.
Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via thelovejournals)
When you come back you will not be you. And I may not be I.
E.M. Forster, “The Other Boat” (via thelovejournals)
Anne Carson, “The Glass Essay”
Why wasn’t the poet remembered?“ Time was quiet as he answered. “A name wasn’t needed for living.” “Then why leave us their words?” A smile cracks across his lips as he answers. “They were, so I was swallowed up.
“You just had to know that they were human, and that they hurt.” (via hinatashoyyo)
You must find ..someone mild and beautiful to be your lover. Someone who will tremble for your touch… Someone whose fingers are a poem.
Janet Fitch, White Oleander (via thelovejournals)
isn’t it sad how poets dress up their pain in words like diamonds and satin?
lemonadeangelwriting, romanticized (via wnq-writers)
Did he take my worth or did I never have any? Did he dirty me or have I always been dirty?
Things I rather not think about (via brokenplaything)
What happens once you kill yourself? Because I'm ready to go.
You wanna know what happens once you kill yourself? Your mother comes home from work and finds her baby dead and she screams and runs over to you and tries to get you to wake up but you won’t and she keeps screaming and shaking you and her tears are dripping onto your face and your dad hears all the screaming and runs into the room and he can’t even speak because the child that he loved and the child that he watched grow up is gone forever and finally your little sister runs into the room to see what all the fuss is about and she sees you dead. The person she looked up to and loved. The person she bragged about to her friends, the person she wanted to be just like when she grew up, the person that made her feel safe. But she’s never really going to get to grow up and smile and laugh and love because she’ll always be consumed with this feeling of missing you. And now there’s something missing from your family and they can barely look at each other anymore because everything reminds them of you but you’re gone and hurts more than anything. and you think that your mom never cared because she was always busy and yelling at you to finish your homework and clean your room and forgot to say I love you sometimes but really, she loved you more than anything and she doesn’t leave the house anymore, she can’t even get out of bed and she’s getting thinner and thinner because it’s too hard to eat. Your father had to quit his job and he doesn’t sleep anymore, every time he closes his eyes he sees his baby dead, and the image never goes away no matter how much alcohol he drinks. And at school your best friend sees that your seat is empty and she gets this sick feeling in her stomach and that’s when she hears the announcement. You killed yourself. And suddenly she’s screaming and crying in the middle of class and no one even bothers comforting because they’re all busy sitting there staring at your empty seat with tears dripping down their cheeks and all she wants is for you to hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay like you always did, but this time, you’re not there to do it, everything is dark now that you’re gone and her grades are slipping, she barely goes to school anymore and she ended up in hospital after taking too many pills because she wanted to see you again. the girls who used to make fun of the way you dressed feel their throats get tight, they don’t talk to each other anymore, they don’t talk to anyone, they’re all in therapy trying so hard not to blame themselves but nothing works. and your teacher who always gave you a hard time stares blankly at the wall, she quits her job a few days later. And then your boyfriend hears the news and he can’t breathe, he still calls you a lot just to hear your voice and he talks to you on facebook but you never message him back, he can’t fall in love again because every girl he meets reminds him of you, he’s never going to get over you, he loved you and he cries himself to sleep every night, hating himself and slicing his skin because he couldn’t save you and he’s never going to hold you in his arms or hear you laugh again. Now everyone who knew you, whether they were a big part of your life or someone you passed in the hallway a few times a week, they carry this aching feeling around inside them because you’re gone, and they miss you, and they don’t know why you left but it must’ve been their fault and they should’ve stopped you and they should’ve told you they loved you more and that feeling is never going to go away. And so you killed yourself
but you killed everyone else around you too.
this need to be on everyone’s blog
this makes me think..
God bless whoever wrote this.
im crying
I never usually reblog things like this.. but if it saves just one persons life… please take thime to read this even if you think there is no point in living. Please.
Don’t wait for some one to write poetry about you Write with the ink of hidden swimming holes deep in the moss forests of enchanted lands Sing the words in car rides across the country with the wind kissing your feet rested outside the window Write yourself poetry
