Dance to the Tune

A study of any collection of words that carry meaning.

[garlicbread908]

Confidence is not ‘they will like me’ Confidence is ‘I’ll be fine if they don’t’

things everyone should know  (via harrys-braids)

It's all about confidence and self-love

[whereaboatcrashed-deactivated20]

by Kateri Sava

‘Twas my beer leg and the sparkling toke

Did lighting and grumble in the womb

All musty were the gas pump groves

And the drunkard’s flag a flume

Beguile the Beer Monger, my being

The speechless jowls, the vacant brows

Beguile the chub-chub tub, and Shiner

[livedreamlovedaily]

[paradoxicalissue]

[the-healing-nest]

Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.

Kalyn Roseanne (via shetakesflight)

[etchedwithmemories-blog]

I had a smoker’s voice for a day,

your hands for a night of pneumonia

fever that burned and sweat up logic.

I lost a photograph in jetlag rain –

a figure I knew of only lies

in your hooded skeptic eye.

Blue scrawls pull down quick

nights and a rooftop sanity my

head...

[lh-loveletters]

[lovequotesrus]

EVERYTHING LOVE

[dancetothetune-blog]

Let's write a poem in bed - 

You draft a line or two

And I'll scrawl some gibberish - 

No matter what the words say,

I have a hunch that it'll be magical.

Let's share a pillow and face each other;

Lights can be turned off

But keep those green eyes on

Because I want to see how your wheels turn,

Even if I must gaze through the haze of darkness.

Don't touch your toes to the floor though,

Because once you leave the bed,

Our magic existence is concluded

Like a 13-line sonnet.

[tylerknott]

I simply told her she sounded like poetry whenever she laughed.

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)

[dancetothetune-blog]

Butterfly bliss caught in the air

of a cigarette smoke exhale.

And I have your love dust

all caught in my hair

from when you hugged me good night.

I want your hand in mine

but it’s tangled in his

and I can’t force my eyes

to look away from where those dimples

usually settle on those tired cheeks.

Those cheeks that I was granted

permission to love at my own will

for those two nights that I wish we could live in.

You said I’m either crazy or cool -

I said I wanted to burn again.

[dancetothetune-blog]

Just an average day of flying, getting to touch the sky with my toes.

[dancetothetune-blog]

The only thing that could spoil a day was people. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.

Ernest Hemingway

[dancetothetune-blog]

When writing a novel, a writer should create living people; people, not characters. A character is a caricature.

Ernest Hemingway

[dancetothetune-blog]

We Are Making the Anti-Memories

Courtyards whispering secrets of drunken nights in a language you will never quite understand.

It’s fun to get fucked up.

It’s fun to count your stacked cups

as you dump the final dregs of another drink

down your stumbling throat.

It’s fun to look through the pictures of yourself the next day,

because that lens is the only trustworthy recollection

of your clumsy form doing stupid things;

memories you’re proud to say you’ll never remember.

It’s fun to pretend, because you too could be Peter Pan.

It’s fun to lose yourself to a stream of make-up

falling from your eyes.

It’s fun to wake up with your face slapped

by the vomit-flavored carpet

and to find tattoos of its pattern etched all over your body.

It’s fun to be wild and free

and to let your soul out,

lose control, stop fighting,

just let it happen with a painless

up-chuck.

It’s fun when you didn’t quite make it to the bathroom.

It’s fun when you wake up to your clothes and your bed

soaked in the urinated awesome that was last night.

It’s fun to get fucked up.

It’s fun to open your eyes the next morning to a new land

because last night was an adventure

where maps are cheating

and a bed doesn’t matter.

It’s fun to look at this jagged, cracked cement

and know that every time I see it,

mirages of regurgitated Hawaiian Punch will accompany it.

It’s fun to get fucked up

because we are making the anti-memories.

It’s fun because we can finally forget how much we fucked up.

Courtyards whispering secrets of drunken nights in a language you will never quite understand.

[dancetothetune-blog]

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Albert Camus

[dancetothetune-blog]

The cure for anything is salt water—sweat, tears, or the sea.

Isak Dinesen

[dancetothetune-blog]

Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.

F. Scott Fitzgerald