ANGEL with no WINGS

Not to sound douchey, but I'm trying to identify where the body ends and the self begins.

[lifeinpoetry]

I can crown myself with my own life.

Cathy Linh Che, from “Gardenia,” Split (via lifeinpoetry)

[automatically]

if you want a nice body, go get it. if you want to become a lawyer, study your ass off. if you want nice hair, pick a style and get it done. stop being afraid and motivate yourself. find yourself. find your happiness, because it’s out there waiting for you.

[kalmbeforethestorm]

am i real - actual thing i googled today

[itswhateverbraaaah]

Acting like you don’t give a shit when you do is a bad idea. Because one night when you’re awake at 3 a.m all your feelings you’ve kept bottled up and shoved away are going to come spilling out of you like a flood and you will fall the fuck apart.

[songsforgorgons]

Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against ‘losing control’ — of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind.

Elana Dykewomon, “Notes for a Magazine,” Sinister Wisdom #36

(Winter 1988/89)

@greye

(via evrch)

[thetalks]

I’ve made mistakes. But everything you do is a part of you, and you get something from it… So I don’t regret anything.

Al Pacino (via thetalks)

[soft-ghetto-tomatoes]

[wordsnquotes]

Don’t sit and wait. Get out there, feel life. Touch the sun, and immerse in the sea.

Rumi (via thatkindofwoman)

[kalmbeforethestorm]

Heartbeat

I remember placing my hand on your chest. 

Nothing sounded sweeter than the rythmic echo of security. And as the blood got violently pumped inside your veins, mine stopped. 

A heart - icy cold - is never just frozen. Its fragility is relative to the thinness of the ice. Only recently iced up, then, the fragile heart is nothing but a layer of struggle and risk. Will you break the ice? 

You have two options. Go. 

I apologise for putting you on the spot there, protector. I am merely what your warm heart desired me to be. I am laying it all out on the table. I am giving you the options. Too bad I only do it in my head, since my porcelain heart rests lifeless inside an untouched body.

Heart and body - equally untouched. Neglected for the sake of pride and prejudice. But, see, they are both racing. Running, sprinting, to get where they are told they will find serenity. And along the way sometimes they skip a beat. That’s when the blood stops and when the whole process gets kickstarted again the drops take a different direction. Where will they go?

They have two options. Go. 

“Lovely heart, skipping a beat is natural! It is beautiful!”. No wonder some find it hard to subscribe to the nature of this normality. 

My lovely heart, you will once kick this curse. No need for you to take the passenger’s seat. One day you will get your chance. Maybe when other heartbeats coincide with yours. Besides, can you not remember? It was truly strange but you can swear it was real; when you were ticking, you could still hear him tacking… 

[iamubik]

I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.

[wetheurban]

[xenaswitch]

So stop waiting for Fridays, and stop waiting for summers, and stop waiting for someone to fall in love with you, because those things will happen. But in the meantime, enjoy right now

[lifeinpoetry]

‘Do you fall in love often?’ Yes often. With a view, with a book, with a dog, a cat, with numbers, with friends, with complete strangers, with nothing at all.

[timotaychalamet]

[kalmbeforethestorm]

The Streets

How can the prospect of being lost make you feel like you found yourself? I’m walking on unknown pavements of a foreign city, yet I’ve never felt more at home. The sounds of airplanes and cars, birds and fluttering leaves bring music to my ears. And oh how I wish I could turn this lane into an orchestra. I would wave my wand and the trees would obey and this woman’s vibrant red geraniums would dance and explode in colour. And these rooms that resemble prison cells would waver. The humid, sweaty bricks would crack. The walls would break into stars and pastel drops. No maze would ever confuse the passenger anymore. No horns would urge you to walk faster, but they would wave at you and nod. And as I am passing this old Off Licence, and I re-imagine moments of the past, what it was and what it could be, i find myself on a street I might know too well. Nothing says welcome home like the Underground sign. Ready to put an end in your wanderlust. The blue card heavying your pocket. Where could your little heart go next, my love? To the skies, to the skies and beyond.

[coloursteelsexappeal]

[thetalks]

Wake up every day knowing that you have a chance to start again, to let go of yesterday.

Susan Sarandon (via thetalks)