[gatheringbones]

victoria and weed, photographer marcelina martin, 1995.

[kuchipachi]

white flag by lucia gallipoli

[sonyaheaneyauthor]

Ukraine. A Girl with Geese. By Nikolai Bodarevsky, 1892.

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

Beaver Moon - The Suicide of a Friend

When somewhere life

breaks the pane of glass,

and from every direction casual

voices are bringing you the news,

you say: I should have known.

You say: I should have been aware.

That last Friday he looked

so ill, like an old mountain-climber

lost on the white trails, listening

to the ice breaking upward, under

his worn-out shoes. You say:

I heard rumors of trouble, but after all

we all have that. You say:

What could I have done? and you go

with the rest, to bury him.

That night, you turn in your bed

to watch the moon rise, and once more

see what a small coin it is

against the darkness, and how everything else

is a mystery, and you know

nothing at all except

the moonlight is beautiful-

white rivers running together

along the bare boughs of the trees-

and somewhere, for someone, life

is becoming moment by moment

unbearable.

Mary Oliver

[amnesiaguy]

The Long and Short of It, Richard Siken

[soundsofmyuniverse]

Brian Molko, 1996

[geryone]

Sweet Movie, Alisha Dietzman

[kisxmesoft]

[jerseyclown]

and a little more fucking the wound for my friend here please

[thephotoregistry]

From Architecture of Density

Michael Wolf

[dykearchived]

Fatale Media’s Bathroom Sluts (1991)

[chantssecrets]

I am the man. I suffered,

I was there.

-Whitman

In Baldwin’s hand, cover page for the manuscript of Giovanni’s Room.

[caribbeanangel]

Pablo Mayombe.

[boringangel]

Korina Wray

[7pleiades7]

Les saintes femmes au tombeau (also known as The Holy Women at the Tomb and The Three Marys at the Tomb) (1890) William Adolphe Bouguereau (French, 1825 – 1905), oil on canvas, 259 cm (101.9 in) x 161 cm (63.3 in), Royal Museum of Fine Arts Antwerp

[ljosalfheim]

inside my heart there’s a little kid who yearns to live down the hall from my brother forever.

i'm convinced that if we were total strangers, i'd gravitate towards him in a crowded room. if i never knew him, i would still spend my whol

[dailykafka]

— March 22, 1922 / Franz Kafka diaries