☆we've all gotta die☆

https://youtu.be/uguXNL93fWg hello! the name's leaf(she/her)/i post more on Pinterest feel free to check it out :)

[despicablewench]

no offense but check yes juliet kill the limbo i’ll keep tossin rocks at your window

[havingapoemwithyou]

Everything All at Once by Oliver Baez Bendorf

[pixiecaps]

big fan of whatever the youth is doing to torment scientology buildings

[leafthesocialreject]

follow the poetry account y'all 🤍🤍

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[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

rest in peace, prince of darkness ♡

[loveandshatteredglass]

Escape this town

Don't you ever get tired of how things here are Lazing about but for us they raise the bar Old people asking what we do with our lives Left to do nothing more than throwing knives

Map spread out across the basement wall Where it lands is the place for a new downfall Either we'll live our best life over there Or if we don't we tried to see if it’s ever fair

This old town is only pushing us down If we stay here any longer we might drown Don't you ever yearn for something new Somewhere we can do what we want to

You see Bruce was right, we're born to run Instead of constantly sucking on a loaded gun Do you want to end up like mom and dad Never left this place, no wonder they feel bad

Maybe we'll finally find the right city for us Baby, tell me, will you get with me on this bus If you do, neither of us will be left alone And rely on weekly calls on the telephone

Drive down the dirty road toward the sunrise No plan how to get started but that's the price Lower than risking your sanity, I'll gladly pay Getting closer to our goals each passing day

[leafthesocialreject]

beautiful 🫶

[herowyn]

5 0    Y E A R S    A G O

[felitomkinson]

my friends r so talented. rb if ur friends are talented

[cheapnicotine]

morning glory

please don’t put your life in the hands of a rock n roll band (who’ll throw it all away). kid stands outside the diner, cigarette in hand, july haze, moving in place. crash, jolt, repeat, who the hell does you think you are? it’s like crossroads, except it isn’t. this is south carolina, it’s a five point star, the devil’s long since fled this wasteland, and you’re no robert johnson. you’ll never go down in history like he did—at best, your friends might leave cigarettes and cassette tapes on your grave. cassette tapes, because you always were a pretentious asshole. it’s a bit bowie-esque, the thought of cancer on a sunny summer afternoon. finger, then another finger, then cigarette. it’s a bit matheson-esque, the slouch against the wall, half boy-girl-brat, half soho courtesan. brat summer, 365, rotten from the inside. cigarette flicked to the ground because the planet’s dying anyways. sorry, hard rock cafe. sorry, john lennon. we never gave peace a chance, never imagined today. father always said, please don’t put your life in the hands of a rock n roll band (i threw it all away). kid stands outside the diner, gun in hand, july haze, moving in place.

[cheapnicotine]

morning glory

please don’t put your life in the hands of a rock n roll band (who’ll throw it all away). kid stands outside the diner, cigarette in hand, july haze, moving in place. crash, jolt, repeat, who the hell does you think you are? it’s like crossroads, except it isn’t. this is south carolina, it’s a five point star, the devil’s long since fled this wasteland, and you’re no robert johnson. you’ll never go down in history like he did—at best, your friends might leave cigarettes and cassette tapes on your grave. cassette tapes, because you always were a pretentious asshole. it’s a bit bowie-esque, the thought of cancer on a sunny summer afternoon. finger, then another finger, then cigarette. it’s a bit matheson-esque, the slouch against the wall, half boy-girl-brat, half soho courtesan. brat summer, 365, rotten from the inside. cigarette flicked to the ground because the planet’s dying anyways. sorry, hard rock cafe. sorry, john lennon. we never gave peace a chance, never imagined today. father always said, please don’t put your life in the hands of a rock n roll band (i threw it all away). kid stands outside the diner, gun in hand, july haze, moving in place.

[leafthesocialreject]

AHHH NEW ZACH BRYAN !!!!!!!!

[leafthesocialreject]

AHHH NEW ZACH BRYAN !!!!!!!!

[defkisshalen]

You have to play this on Saturday nights it's the law

[octaviasdread]

Thinking about Carpe Diem and the cinematography of falling leaves to falling snow.

Seasons as cyclical as generations. It's tapestries and banners. It’s photographs on the wall. A structure, a system; tradition in the bones of buildings and boys.

There's a choice to be made - Nolan's hollow, ceremonial Light of Knowledge, or Neil's scavenged, man-made God of the Cave?

They’re children living for the future through a lens of past. Fireside stories embraced by woodland caves. They chant, dance, and recite from a sacred book - the heirloom they claim from a father they chose.

The window is finally open, but time froze at Welton lake. Forever winter. Forever youth. A moment in time, a feeling, a community turned to dust.

It's all so fleeting. Carpe Diem. Teenage years, childhood, a lifetime in three months. It’s a tragedy of classical epics.

The tale is old, but this wound is fresh. Falling to your knees. Shouting at the sky, praying and wailing, and clutching at the earth.

But the snow never stops.

Spring is up to us.

[mchonda]

everyone when two f1 drivers so much as talk shit about each other: idk :/ i just think it’s immature

everyone when two nascar drivers start fist fighting in pitlane:

[defkisshalen]

You have to play this on Saturday nights it's the law

[cheapnicotine]

highway 176

ride the snake, jim morrison said. ride the snake. he never told us what that meant and we’ll never know because who can truly know the lizard king, the desert disciple, the shaman of the doors of perception? ride the snake. in the nascent days of summer ‘24 the carolina heat rises up off highway 176 like the smoke curls from the tips of joints and cigarettes and from under the hood of an old beater car. before the interstates, before 26 and 95, 176 cradled weary travelers, winding through the swamps and old growth forests, rolling through the wet hot lush, snakelike. ride the snake. nobody drives it much anymore but i do. i see god in everything—in the abandoned storefronts of main street after main street—small town america, the heart of dixie—in cracked highways, in tumbledown barns left over from the reconstruction days, in the bones of my grandfathers that languish under this blessed (foresaken) earth. i drive 176 like it’s the last thing between me and a heaven i’ll never see. desperate country boys sit on their tailgates at the edges of the snake, wanting and wishing and praying and hurting and bleeding their whole damn souls into violent wasted hopes, cutting their dirty hands on coors cans, giving this land more than it’ll ever give them. most of them don’t get out alive. but still they hope, and battered dreams tumble out the backs of rusted pickups, seeing through the sun bleached cracks of the road. ride the snake, jim morrison said. wheels and engines turn over and over and i try not to look back. highway boys don’t die.