Recycled Moments

[foxmouth]

Illustrations, 2013 | by Julian Landini

[bohemianroutes]

It's not you.

It me. Always me. With my flight over fight mentality.

[extramadness]

More inspiring quotes here

[caitlinhackettart]

“The King Vulture’s Queen”, an 11″ by 14″ painting in watercolor, acrylic, ballpoint pen and colored pencil on paper. This piece is available for sale now through Bash Contemporary gallery in SF www.bashcontemporary.com

[connorwritespascale]

Old Habits

I’ve taken once again to the bottle. Oh no, not the bottle of spirits, but the bottle of blood. That liquid rust that tastes of melted coin and women. I am unlike the the vampires of old, or that of the hungry crow. Do not mistake me for a monster, for I only speak in metaphor. However, if we do speak in metaphor, I am a monster unlike anything that I had before known to exist. For I have taken to the bottle once again, and this time I don’t mean to stop short.

[bohemianroutes]

Old habits die hard, dyed red. It’s the vinegar in the jar that preserves and omits the stain. The distain, the begrime and the daub of the monsters teeth, is not cleansed by the taste of coin nor women. It is the bitter vinegar that sanctifies the sully. No metaphor is a lone creature left to crow a midnight dreary, evermore. A metaphor, nay! A mirror, more! Reflections in the red show a shadow. Your shadows cast a metal deeper than blood.

[eatsleepdraw]

spaceship

[leslieseuffert]

[bohemianroutes]

Orbitals.

No head.

No sun.

No traveling around.

[bohemianroutes]

No dimes.

I like cowboy killers like my all night thrillers. Suckin on sweet baby janes & singing in the rain- living on all these empty fillers.

[where-the-babes-at-blog]

James Dean vibes

[darksilenceinsuburbia]

Naftali Beder

[niccsfrom-blog]

[bohemianroutes]

Waste.

The time we have wasted is strewn about, as the roadkill of lives wasted by another constant want. It is a rot we have created in our nothingness. A rot pushing carbon into our lungs, that will be heaved out and will lead the buzzards to us. Vultures have no pity, nor greed. Only time.

[murmurrs]

I care so much I’m sick.

Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451 (via murmurrs)

[katesworld-deactivated20220413]

Photo: Kate Bellm

[artmonia]

[bohemianroutes]

I believe in the glow around a woman's neck when she lets the sun sink into her chest and there's nothing to do but allow the halo to become a memory.