[logopoetics]

Let me count the ways you’ve buried landmines along our path, lest I forget, or fall into the softness of unreality. You are both imagined and wholly tangible, you are both and neither.

Only figment and desire (©nico snyder)

[hamiltonsource]

The part that affects me the most is one of the last lines of the show, and Eliza sings it. I step forward and I claim that she tells my story because she was instrumental in the funding and the building of the Washington Monument. (x)

[uvparadise]

[lildevilshellbell]

I spit out my soda reading this.

[famefox-deactivated20171125]

This is priceless.

[emmas]

writers when the lesbian is alive: WATCH OUR SHOW WE HAVE LESBIANS.

writers after they kill the lesbian: we didnt see her as a lesbian, she was just a normal person like all the others. who just happened to die

[dunflower]

[dancingtoheartbeats]

Anyway so I have a poetry page HERE and it would really mean a lot to me if you guys would give it a like.

[mysecondwife]

“There are those who say fate is something beyond our command. That destiny is not our own, but I know better. Our fate lives within us, you only have to be brave enough to see it.” 

[alexander]

reblog if u fucking love carbs, just ate a bagel, or u a fucking asshole and don’t care

[jewishdragon]

Words of wisdom from Ron Swanson.

To all those amazing people who have messed up at some point, which is pretty much everyone. 

It doesn’t make you a bad person

[medeae]

Don’t get me wrong, you can love. You can bend over a pinball machine for a biker, or a balcony for a photographer. You can bend over a bridge for a poet, but when you’re in a strange city at a lonely hotel bar and they ask what you’re drinking, say his name.

Megan Falley, from “Lana Del Rey Intervenes When She Notices I’ve Stopped Writing About My Ex,” published in Rattle (via medeae)

[laughable--loves-deactivated201]

sleep all day, poetry all night~🌙✨ #leonardcohen

[kingjaffejoffer]

[battlships]

Considering he was written to represent Jewish values, he should probably be Middle Eastern.

[russianspacegeckosexparty]

I’m so here for black Jewish Superman

[brasspistol]

YES (ps I read is Superman Jewish fyi he is)

[bemusedlybespectacled]

Black Jewish Superman? Then we know who needs to play him.

Clark Kent:

And then he changes…

…into Superman.

[brasspistol]

it got better

[servedyouwell-deactivated201806]

H ALSHF A

[uwugenides]

dXINDJBSUONSWH FJBDH XGJNXMLY B

*choked sob* please

[heartstake]

yo turns out wE HAD A SECRET WEAPON

[amuseoffyre]

AN IMMIGRANT WE KNOW AND LOVE, WHO’S UNAFRAID TO STEP IN.

[malkaleh]

I HAD TO REBLOG AGAIN

[shes-a-voodoo-child]

HERE FOR DAVEED AS SUPERMAN YESPLEASE.

[exeunt-pursued-by-a-bear]

ERRYBODY GIVE IT UP FOR AMERICA’S FAVORITE FIGHTING SUPERMAN

[valvecorporation-blog1]

hey bi/pan girls who r told theyre “basically straight”.. ur attraction to girls is wonderful and beautiful and i love you

[gabriel-picolo]

Icarus and the Sun 

Inspired by Icarus, who dared to fly too near the sun on wings of feathers and wax. If he was in love with the sun, then this might as well be a story of forbidden love.

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[lavenderfennec]

This is my favorite thing ever

[moofrog]

THE COLORS GUYS. THE COLOOORRRS!

[buttonpoetry]

I was taught of my own ugly, made to forget myself, and I do not love less.

FROM THE VAULT: Arati Warrier - “Love Less” (TGS 2014)

Performing during prelims at the 2014 Texas Grand Slam. Subscribe to Button on YouTube!

(via buttonpoetry)

[theprocast]

When he came back, five months and thirteen days after he’d said goodbye, she did not weep when he stood in the doorframe. She did not thank him for showing up. She did not open her arms, did not open her heart. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, her limbs and her ribcage protecting her heart from exploding out of her body and spilling all her secrets. “No,” she breathed, “that’s not how it works.” “You said you’d wait for me,” he reminded her sternly, edging closer, “you promised.” “And you think you can come back after months of not calling, of not caring? You think my promises mean anything if you can’t keep your own?” His face went blank, like the sky robbed of the stars, and she realised he didn’t know. He had no clue. His promises were like scabbed wounds, they faded with time and healed over, new skin growing to cover the original cut, until you forgot you had bled in the first place. But there was one promise that went deeper, one promise that had not faded and one she had not forgotten. A cut that would never heal. “You promised-,” she whispered, her voice dangerously low in her throat, “you promised you’d always love me. You said we were forever. Then you left. I didn’t break my promise. I waited. But eventually I realised two things: I was waiting in vain and more importantly: I didn’t want you to come back.” She was smiling now, a smile that spoke of pain and revenge and shattered hearts. “And I want to promise you one thing: if you ever fall down, you’ll be sorry I won’t be there to pick up the pieces.”

Promises n.j. (via procastiwriters)