And You Say I'll Give You Anything

But you never come through. Not sure what this is. A mishmash of things that pertain to the blog addlvd. I think people have called it an inspiration blog.

[heartcountry]

…even after a crash, a key still fits the ignition. There just isn’t anything left to drive.

Sarah Kay, excerpt from, “Something We Don’t Talk About, Part I” in her book, No Matter the Wreckage 

[rattlvd-blog]

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you,

You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened. Your co-workers ask if everything's okay and you tell them you're just tired.

[melisica]

www.johnnysbird.com

[rattlvd-blog]

  Do not touch my chains;

CRYSTALEYES - AViVAA | The Reeling - Passion Pit | STONEHEART - Kat Vinter | If I Had a Heart - Fever Ray | It's Not The Same - Yppah | We Fade Away - How To Destroy Angels | Angel - Massive Attack | Empire - Alpines

[lostcap]

I am not your sun, or your goddamn sky, I am the fire that will burn all of your hope to the ground. I was born of the wild, darling, and I’m not here for you to love.

I am not beautiful enough to be your poetry | p.d

[fuckyeahrudyfrancisco]

Your heart will become a dusty piano in the basement of a church and she will play you when no one is looking. Now you understand why it’s called an organ.

Rudy Francisco, "Like Every Other Man" (via fuckyeahrudyfrancisco)

[wordsnquotes]

I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty.

Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

[wnq-writers]

She wasn’t made-up and pretence. She was blood, bones and broken promises enclosed in beauty. She was real, and that’s what people despised.

stormyskies-starryeyes

[rattlvd-blog]

                                                         no matter how hard you try;

                                                           you can’t save them a l l.

[wnq-writers]

Cut me open, and tell me what you see, Do you see any form of beauty, Or just insanity?

Jay Bryant (via wnq-writers)

[amerabu]

[lunchboxpoems]

You firestar. Pool of moonburst. You turned my skin to dust. Rawblade glasstooth girl. With your hot rage and bus ticket anywhere. Never saw a woman run so many directions at once. One night, you shined so bright the police came to watch. Your bruises and shirt-shreds. How we all just stood there, watching you shimmer. Afraid to flinch, for a faceful of claw. You are some kind of firework. Flipswitch blues. Broken Sundays spent towing the boulders out of you. The Brooklyn 3am’s, frenzied as an upturned autobahn. Your porchlamp laughter. The clack and sweep and throb. The buttered slick of you. Your sweat-bead banshee pitch. Mother warned me. Said your sugar was a ruse. Bait. (As if madness is calculated.) I am the cruelest kind of lover. A coward. Afraid of the thing most dazzling. I wished the bleak into my own blood. Prayed a flock of rotten notes. Some afternoons, I wander through your photographs. Letters. Wonder if the river won your war.

"Finally I Allow Him The Pen,” Jeanann Verlee 

[socialpsychopathblr]

[xoccidere-blog]

addlvd : brief analysis.

[the-library-and-step-on-it]

Personally, I’m a mess of conflicting impulses—I’m independent and greedy and I also want to belong and share and be a part of the whole. I doubt that I’m the only one who feels this way. It’s the core of monster making, actually. Wanna make a monster? Take the parts of yourself that make you uncomfortable—your weaknesses, bad thoughts, vanities, and hungers—and pretend they’re across the room. It’s too ugly to be human. It’s too ugly to be you. Children are afraid of the dark because they have nothing real to work with. Adults are afraid of themselves. Oh we’re a mess, poor humans, poor flesh—hybrids of angels and animals, dolls with diamonds stuffed inside them. We’ve been to the moon and we’re still fighting over Jerusalem. Let me tell you what I do know: I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multi-vocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper.

"Black Telephone," Richard Siken (read here). (via xxwoobin)

[sixpenceee]

Alnwick Poison Gardens. The gardens were established in 2005 by the Duchess of Northumberland who’s affinity for the apothecary gardens inspired the collection of nearly 100 deadly and hallucinogenic plants.

[yasujiroozu]

青い春 (Blue Spring) dir. Toshiaki Toyoda

“People who know what they want… they scare me.”