Don’t break your tenderness.
Jack Kerouac, Mexico City Blues: 242 Choruses
Read more at wordsnquotes
(via wnq-quotes)

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Monterey Bay Aquarium
dirt enthusiast
Stranger Things
todays bird
trying on a metaphor

Kaledo Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

No title available
will byers stan first human second

JVL
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
One Nice Bug Per Day

shark vs the universe
Mike Driver
NASA
cherry valley forever
No title available
hello vonnie
AnasAbdin
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@shakiraahenryy
Don’t break your tenderness.
Jack Kerouac, Mexico City Blues: 242 Choruses
Read more at wordsnquotes
(via wnq-quotes)
When someone says these days sexism and misogyny don’t exist anymore show them this.
Penguin Books from the 1930s - 1950s
ETERNITIES, died over and above you, letter touches your still un- wounded fingers, the shining forehead vaults hither and beds itself in odors, noises.
Paul Celan, from Breathturn into Timestead: The Collected Later Poetry, transl. by Pierre Joris (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2014)
“I was glad I wasn’t in love, that I wasn’t happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.”
Favourite literature | Romantic poets
English Romantic poets and their Wikipedia entries
I have so much of you in my heart.
John Keats (via amargedom)
*male writer voice* i don’t remember her name. it’s not important. i met her at a record store and she went home with me because i offered to buy her cigarettes. she had amazing perky breasts. we drank cheap whiskey and had sex three times that night and then she told me she wanted to be a dragonfly because they were free. i slept with her many times after that. but one day she stopped returning my calls and i don’t know why. that was seven years ago. on monday she got hit by a bus and died. i saw it in the newspaper so i went to her funeral and it made me sad. i don’t know why. i hate my mother even though she pays my rent while i write poetry about masturbating in the shower
She’s a mess of gorgeous chaos and you can see it in her eyes.
Charles Bukowski (via quotespile)