5:48 // 5:50
My heart is being pressured
fragments and stretching tendons
i’m trying to figure things out
i really am
please don’t give up on me

roma★
cherry valley forever
NASA
we're not kids anymore.

titsay
hello vonnie
Claire Keane

shark vs the universe
No title available
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Mike Driver
sheepfilms

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

PR's Tumblrdome
Jules of Nature
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Kaledo Art
dirt enthusiast
h

No title available
seen from Czechia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Iraq
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from France
seen from Maldives

seen from Indonesia
seen from Georgia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
@inkingwords
5:48 // 5:50
My heart is being pressured
fragments and stretching tendons
i’m trying to figure things out
i really am
please don’t give up on me
Oh how he was burned, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Setting your papered wings alight as sparks jumped off his skin.
And oh how you loved him. // (y.x.)
8:36 // 8:39
I have a headache that's making my head spin
and I can't really focus on anything but that's
not the point because I can still see the fan
spinning above me and the dozen lights in the
house and hear the muslim prayers from the
mosque in the neighborhood
I don't know where I was going with this
I hope you're all doing well
That you have the time and space to breathe
That you smile and laugh and cry
Because crying is cleansing
I don't know where I'm going
Please stay
(y.x.) // Why do things have to be so confusing
i feel like
(y.x.) // crying, smiling, laughing, screaming, dancing, writing, diving, flying, being with you
7:02 // 7:05
I think I'm okay, or at least I'm trying very hard to be
with a combination of good words, music and smiles
I think I'm still sad, but trying very hard not to be
I think I've changed, but I'm still trying to be me
I guess it's been a month or is it three months? Or four or five. I guess the point is it's been awhile. And I guess what I'm really trying to say is I miss you. I guess what I'm really trying to say is that I regret it. Not all of it, just the parts where I didn't tell you how I felt. I guess what I'm trying to say is
(y.x.) // And I can't even say it
October
the month of brave souls
and warrior eyes and
lips pulled into a smile
and figuring out what words mean
and where to step
and how to play the game
October
the month of thunderstorms
and sunshine in the afternoon
and tears at night
and winds that take me home
O c t o b e r
World after night The morning skies, who reached a crown at downs to put the day (y.x) // blackout poetry
for a long time now
i think
that i've been wondering
maybe
what it would be like
if
everything went back
to the way
it used to be
when i used to matter.
MAYDAY, SOMEBODY SAVE ME NOW
David Cook
homewehreididyougoocmebackpelaseihaeiaeithere.
9:22
when will i stop being reminded of everything i had to leave
will it be when my body is made up of cells that don't think
of them in seven years?
or will it be when i forget about them
i don't want it to be either
but i want to stop being sad
when a particular type of breeze blows over me
or when i smell concrete on a hot day
or when i'm listening to songs with happy memories attached
i want to be happy
i really do
instead of my skin
i want someone else's
INSTEAD OF MY SKIN:
i carve a page full of ink-less 'please'
INSTEAD OF MY SKIN:
i crinkle a cardboard box
INSTEAD OF MY SKIN:
i draw mile long black marks on empty paper
INSTEAD OF MY SKIN:
i cry tears that sink into childhood toys
INSTEAD OF MY SKIN:
i hide everything away where it doesn't show.
i don't know anymore
Blank pages
Quadratic equations
Theatricality
Dusty feet
Silly dances
Words words words
24.09.14
i feel like crying and i don't know why
or maybe i do know why but i just don't want
to admit it
sometimes i feel like theres nothing poetic about me
i'm not words or ink or starry souls
i'm just a person
a person struggling so bad
to express herself
to wake up every morning
and not cry
to get home every afternoon
and not cry
to go to sleep at night
or cry myself to sleep
it'd be an ocean of tears if i had that
much water inside me if i had
that much grief and sorrow
and nostalgia
and a sense of not belonging
of being wounded
of pressing words together in hopes
that one day
someone will understand
because we're all messed up
and i find that absolutely hilarious
because everyone knows
what they need to get better
but there's no one
there.
(y.x.) // Mashed together in a crowded place