“I suffer from unrequited self love. I love myself, but I don’t love myself back.”
— Andrea Gibson, from Lord of the Butterflies
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Monterey Bay Aquarium
taylor price
Claire Keane
One Nice Bug Per Day
Peter Solarz

Product Placement

Origami Around
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Cosmic Funnies
$LAYYYTER

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Game of Thrones Daily
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

shark vs the universe

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

#extradirty
Three Goblin Art

roma★
Stranger Things

seen from United States
seen from Kosovo
seen from Malaysia
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from Morocco
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Vietnam
seen from Germany

seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
@cavilite
“I suffer from unrequited self love. I love myself, but I don’t love myself back.”
— Andrea Gibson, from Lord of the Butterflies
“The hard part, probably, is admitting that I really can’t handle it anymore.”
— Neil Hilborn, The Future
“A lot of the time I don’t want to die, I’m just embarrassed and that makes me long for death. Not death, just not being here.”
— Neil Hilborn, The Future
Bianca Phipps, “Stay With Me”. Watch Bianca’s brilliant full poem!
That’s Not In My Dictionary
This language that has no words for the things I wish to say, only beautiful blown glass ornaments useless in their breathtaking light
This language that has no words I have spoken it all my life saying nothing nothing but what I am expected to say
This language that has no words becomes hard and heavy like an irreparably broken and ancient machine as I try to move it with my bare hands to speak with a voice it was not made to carry
G.K. 11 November, 2017
Well now, here I am, the prodigal son returns, rearing his ugly colors again.
FROM THE VAULT! RJ Walker - “Said the Confederate Flag to the American Flag”
Performing at the 2016 Great Plains Poetry Pile-Up in Lincoln, NE. Want captions on all videos? Multilingual subtitles? A nationwide Button tour? Check us out on Patreon!
Love will tell you are beautiful, and mean it, over and over again.
Sarah Kay & Phil Kaye, “When Love Arrives”
Congratulations to Sarah & Phil on topping 1 MILLION views on this wonderful poem.
Glass Animals
Two glass animals on the ledge of a shelf
Among clutter took a dive when the window flailed.
They landed in a pile of clothes, managing
To only break roughly in half somehow,
And somehow I glued the unicorn’s head
With super glue onto the donkey’s body.
Abandoned farmhouse with supermoon [1356x2048]
Source: https://openpics.aerobatic.io/
The House With Nobody In It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black. I suppose I’ve passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.
I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things; That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings. I know this house isn’t haunted, and I wish it were, I do; For it wouldn’t be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass, And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass. It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied; But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid I’d put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade. I’d buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be And I’d find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.
Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door, Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store. But there’s nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone For the lack of something within it that it has never known.
But a house that has done what a house should do, a house that has sheltered life, That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife, A house that has echoed a baby’s laugh and held up his stumbling feet, Is the saddest sight, when it’s left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back, Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart, For I can’t help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
(by Joyce Kilmer)
The stuttering is the most honest part of me. It is the only thing that never lies.
FROM THE VAULT! Erin Schick - “Honest Speech” (NPS 2014)
Erin Schick, performing during the 2014 National Poetry Slam. HELP SUPPORT BUTTON POETRY.
My armpit hair is uneven and I feel like something is wrong with my nipples but I don’t know what.
Ed Carlyon - “It’s OK”
One of the submissions from our first-ever video contest. Keep an eye out for our next submission period, open soon! HELP SUPPORT BUTTON POETRY.
(via buttonpoetry)
dont worry, love youre home now. and all the things you left behind have stayed there. they will wait for you to come back. but now you are home let peace enter before you and forget what is right for your nation.
you can rest here and you can rest here and you can rest here and you can rest here
G.K. 20 July, 2017
Watch the video for, “Notes on Staying”, by Hieu Minh Nguyen.
The study of bodies in your mind, and what it means that you were born under Pluto’s light, or any of his servants’.
Between joy set and joy rise, these dark ills can be seen more clearly in the night sky They haunt, with persistent light, the sealed eyes of the sleep-deprived until the conscious door’s bound shut to keep them out.
As joy sets and joy rises, this new study of psychoastronology finds an unpredictable solstice, an imbalanced equinox As each passes, one day is a shorter longer louder quieter repetition of the last.
Joy sets, and joy rises, and in the twilight of happiness lies the fear of darkness, where the devil lies, and all those terrible minds come to hunt in your very own bed where only dreams can hide you.
G.K. 7 July, 2017