Surefire.

katie. LA. Nashville. literature. music. coffee.

[anthropologyofwater-deactivated]

Frank O'Hara, Poetry

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Stomach full of blood, head full of blood, burning red, she can feel it at last, this rage that has been going on for a long time,

Margaret Atwood, from Dancing Girls: Stories; “Lives of the Poets,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[florizels]

you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.

Margaret Atwood, Excerpt of Speeches for Dr. Frankenstein from Selected Poems 1965-1975 (via florizels)

[merulae]

The fear: that nothing survives. The greater fear: that something does.

Richard Siken, from The Language of the Heart in War of the Foxes (via merulae)

[virusmeadow]

[witchyletters]

[jaclynpaige]

[g-racegibson]

[yasyaskovsk]

[hiddenshores]

I looked at all the trees and didn’t know what to do. A box made out of leaves. What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless. Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else. I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon. From the landscape: a sense of scale. From the dead: a sense of scale. I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority. Everything casts a shadow. Your body told me in a dream it’s never been afraid of anything.

Richard Siken, “Detail of the Woods” (via hiddenshores)

[y-o-u-t-h-s]

[firsthome]

[the-final-sentence]

“Nevertheless, it was close enough for now.”

— Terry Pratchett, from Thud!

[delta-breezes]

Bryan Daugherty | @bdorts

[floralls]

by DannyRoozen

[theirgraves]

[purpleorblack]