Simba Lane

In your lane. Switch me.

[wnq-writers]

I think about the tree and all its leaves. The wind has to tear them from its limbs because it doesn’t know how to let go, despite it being in its nature. Does it ever get easier for the tree? When the tree has more rings than roots does it ever remember it’s cycle? Has it always been the fate of the tree to shake fruitless and naked by the winds of the fall? The fearful symmetry of nature accosts me and I cannot pretend to ignore the trees fate unlike I can my own.

weestin  (via wnq-writers)

[simba-lane]

She liked rich food and rich men.

The slut of the north.

[vortexsophia-deactivated2022110]

[geekygothgirl]

I don’t know what we did to deserve Mr. Rogers but I’m so glad we had him. 

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

That elegance. / But I smell fire. / She is burning down. / As a house might. As a candle will. / She is ash and tallow. It is over.

Eavan Boland, from In a Time of Violence; Poems: “The Death of Reason” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[hunkysteph-deactivated20190830]

sans titre (pour toi)

a pair of lips appeared out of the blue

out of the black

i offer the reader a large palette of chromatic possibilities 

the cab driver is now the invisible man with tired limbs and she repeats:

i can only dream of green hues nowadays.

and the autopilot is driving us into the grove

where the only sounds are those of crashing trains and crashing lips and her voice again saying:

i can only dream of green hues nowadays.

i am sinking in your veins and i need no salvation

my hand receives the microorganism without delay

our cells multiply and we give birth to the syntax of love

covered in the thick placenta of all the rejected, stillborn poetry we had read to each other telepathically while your green eyes sank into mine (you, the man of my life)

mouth to mouth

neuron to neuron 

ash to ash.

[simba-lane]

Tomorrow never came.

[simba-lane]

When you see an old friend for the first time in a long time and you’re both a little disappointed because neither of you have changed much over the years.

Oh well.

[bbyygurl]

Unattachment and aloneness are the themes of this new moon I guess. It’s what the full moon and the acid was trying to tell me. Let go of every attachment that no longer serves you, let go of the one that does but is too painful to love, now is not the time. The time is me. The time is my time. Do it now or peocrastinate forever. New moon, who dis?

[bbyygurl]

Masiku yalienda, Lo niko hapa na niko happy, Kipekee. Kivyangu, Kivyetu cha nitosha Kama viatu vya primary, Secondary to the one I’m with, First in my mind always, Usiku yatuacha, Lakini mkono wangu mkononi mwako yanikumbusha that I can love myself just as hard as I love you. Timer: up.

[theclivechronicles]

For broken dreams, the cure is, dream again and deeper.

C.S. Lewis // Dymer, Canto 6.24  (via 13thmoon)

[chuged]

make your absence felt

[wnq-writers]

There’s a beauty in being lost. There’s a beauty in being unfound.

kiana azizian (via wnq-writers)

[simba-lane]

Don't hurt people unless by not hurting them you're hurting yourself.

Only be an asshole for growth reasons

[simba-lane]

“I’ve always understood everything except death,” she said.

Of Love and Other Demons, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

[wordsforstrangers]

4/17/2017

there’s nothing romantic about moons. meaningless specters haunting hapless seas. i haven’t found a way to stop reaching for you, my watery arms stretching wearily, endlessly.

[ignoreourignorance]

The wind Undecided Rolls a cigarette of air

Paul Éluard (via adamhermansson91swe)

[simba-lane]

I felt the fire against my skin, I felt the ice, I knew that I wanted, To burn the sun alive.

Acid sun.