[mykindofweirdxo]

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[ladywarpaint]

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Suddenly I was crying. It was already love.

Clarice Lispector, from Água Viva (via violentwavesofemotion)

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I’ve cried so much this past year, I just can’t cry anymore.

Ellen Bass, from Like A Beggar; “Women Walking” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[vanish]

[spiritually-minded]

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My Kind Of Woman - Mac DeMarco

And I’m down on my hands and knees

Beggin’ you please baby,

Show me your world.

[perrfectly]

[papertowels-blog]

[y-ureii]

[amandahelmpoetry]

My grandparents divorced 22 years ago. My grandma has remarried three different times and my grandfather hasn’t even looked at another woman. When I asked him what went wrong, he said, “You can love someone with everything inside of you, but you can never make them love you forever. I was a fool to think she wouldn’t leave me.”

Amanda Helm, Wandering Souls (via amandaspoetry)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon.

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love” -The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin (1931-1932)

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Today I have died. It is not the first time I have died, but this time I died more profoundly, and the agony was the bitterest I have ever known. I cannot bear life. Up to this point I could bear it. Tonight I cannot. I think of death, of my death. Death would be sweet. Especially because my mind is no longer lucid. I cannot bear the pain.

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Linotte: The Early Diary Of  Anaïs Nin (1914-1920 (via violentwavesofemotion)

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Her beauty drowned me. As I sat in front of her I felt that I would do anything mad for her, anything she asked of me. She was color, brilliance, strangeness.

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love” -The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin (1931-1932)

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Life is such chaos, And I am so tired –

Margitt Kaffka, from Father (via violentwavesofemotion)

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Sometimes, when I sit like this, quiet, all the dreams of my blood and all outrageous divisions of time seem ready to leave, to slide out of me.

Mary Oliver, from Dream Work: Poems; “Knife” (via violentwavesofemotion)

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Every morning I walk like this around / the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart / ever close, I am as good as dead.

Mary Oliver, from Dream Work: Poems; “Landscape” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Today I am gone and for good. It is done now. I can never retrogress. The basis of reality has been blown away by the very pressure of my imagination–other regions, other air to breathe, no boundaries. I tried for many years to fit into the actual world; I starved. I am ready to give myself to the other.

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Linotte: The Early Diary Of Anaïs Nin (via violentwavesofemotion)