Ėmøtïønlėšś

My hands smell like nicotine, and I'm sorry that I'm not one of those girls with a pretty mind and flowers in their hair, I've just got a cigarette between my fingers and tears in my eyes. 15 y/o•Italian girl•Grunge•This profile is my diary, I really don't care if you don't like it.•

[forsakenlouie]

[gifmovie]

[brokenbacksandcigarettes-deacti]

[cyberxbattalion]

[babyjewl]

[satan-loves-u]

[lytheranoctis]

[eliminated]

[eliminated]

[catastrofeanotherme]

Marco Polani - Bianca dentro

@marcopolani

[catastrofeanotherme]

E allora mi chiedo…

Movimento per l’Emancipazione della Poesia, Provocazioni

[catastrofeanotherme]

Gabriele D'Orazio

[catastrofeanotherme]

Mi allarmava il fatto di avere tante difficoltà con le persone. Non ce n'erano molte che mi andassero bene.

Charles Bukowski

[the-sleepy-poet]

“the courage it took to get out of bed each morning to face the same things over and over was enormous.”

—

Charles Bukowski, the freeway life

[introvertedguys]

I’ve had so many knives stuck into me. When they hand me a flower, I can’t quite make out what it is. It takes time.

Charles Bukowski

[metamorfosis-cronica-deactivate]

[riverbambi]

“I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn’t have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn’t make for an interesting person. I didn’t want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone.”

— Charles Bukowski