coll a p s e

all i can do is sit still and consume as much of my own smoke as possible.

[nise-no]

[readingyaoi]

[productionig-deactivated2017042]

[endless-unfolding]

I am worn out with dreams;

William Butler Yeats, from “Men Improve with the Years,” in The Wild Swans at Coole  (via seols)

[oriondiary]

[nagurukeru-deactivated20181027]

[skyiscalling]

Thoughts meander like the restless wind inside a letter box

They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe. ©

[lifeinpoetry]

Sleeping, turning in turn like planets rotating in their midnight meadow: a touch is enough to let us know we’re not alone in the universe, even in sleep…

Adrienne Rich, from Twenty-One Love Poems, The Dream of a Common Language: Poems 1974-1977  (via seols)

[zipofcloud]

[m-manga]

[heresay]

Half the night I waste in sighs.

Alfred Tennyson (via seols)

[closetweebs-deactivated20211031]

[-iki]

[metaphorformetaphor]

Like Lorca, I want to sleep the dream of apples. I want the old dangers to feel welcome— the wind displacing the fir tree, the fir tree catching on fire. Let something burn long enough, it’ll put itself to sleep.

Jennifer Moore, from “[When the Sunlight Becomes an Object],” Body (August 13, 2015)

[m-manga]

[infinitecollage-deactivated2015]

[f-l-e-c-h-a-s]

@enfimvictor

[sasak-i]