“The sadness will last forever” - suicide letter by Vincent Van Gogh
Whoa. What a piece of art. This is disturbingly stunning.
Cosimo Galluzzi

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“The sadness will last forever” - suicide letter by Vincent Van Gogh
Whoa. What a piece of art. This is disturbingly stunning.
I was a star spilled in your arms.
Julia de Burgos, from Song of the Simple Truth; “Harmony of Word and Instinct,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
I am a garden of black and red agonies.
Sylvia Plath. (via parasoli)
How nice — to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.
Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (via books-n-quotes)
But I must admit I miss you quite terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby. I go to bed early and rise late and feel as if I have hardly slept.
Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters (via books-n-quotes)
A soul mate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.
Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love (via books-n-quotes)
Amrita Chakraborty
prompt: illusions of immortality
how to trap the amber within the treehow to trap the fly within the amberhow to trap the blood within the flyhow to trap the hunt within the blood
rest of it i will handle it will be saffron and my wife will be open mouthed with wondershe will be dissuaded from cutting her hair, her quick fingers braiding it upagain and curling into the roots.she will abandon the unfolded sari;i hold out a wrist and she smiles into it.
thursday evening my glasses breakand she scolds me, her quick fingersrescue the miniscule screw, pinch itcarefully enough that her skin splotches red. i close my wet eyesand laugh and laugh and laugh.in the next room, there is a jasmine plantravenous for sunlight, seeping inthrough unturned shades. some days i am keener on certain brands of cruelty.
strong scent of incense when i return,as though all week, gods crowded aroundmy body seeking offerings. she lies on her side, fingers curled overone corner of the warm red sheet.what i know better than anyone, afterthirty-one weeks in the glass city, is how to open a door with mental oil on its hinges. a measure of rope lieson the little table, half-ringing a plate of lentils and rice. steaming. i swallowand it splinters the silence. across theroom, her dreams are fields of wheat.
I am getting so far out one day I won’t come back at all.
William S. Burroughs (via wordsnquotes)
The way cotton candy falls to its knees at the suggestion of rain is the only thing I’ve found to describe remembering, after you’ve just been happy, all the things that make you less alive.
Neil Hilborn, The Future (via buttonpoetry)
I loved you the same way that I learned how to ride a bike. Scared, but reckless. With no training wheels or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you.
Rudy Francisco, from Helium (via buttonpoetry)
“You adore me, you love me, you cherish me, Jesus Christ you can’t live without me “. Buffalo ‘66