astronomicarum of the moonlit mind

[derangedrhythms]

And a dark voice spoke from within me:

Georg Trakl, Poems and Prose: Poems from Der Brenner 1914/5; from 'Revelation and Perdition', tr. Alexander Stillmark

[derangedrhythms]

And a dark voice spoke from within me:

Georg Trakl, Poems and Prose: Poems from Der Brenner 1914/5; from 'Revelation and Perdition', tr. Alexander Stillmark

[sleepinginthesnow-blog]

The Haunting Beauty of Snowflakes: Wilson Bentley’s Pioneering 19th-Century Photomicroscopy of Snow Crystals

The quest to capture nature’s vanishing masterpieces, endowed with the delicacy of flowers and the mathematical precision of honeycombs.

[sleepinginthesnow-blog]

My brain taunts me. It takes twisted satisfaction in stopping me in the shower, on the subway. I’m suicidal more than I’m not. The silence will kill me if nothing else does.

Diamond Sharp

[sleepinginthesnow-blog]

Nothing haunts me more than these piano notes in my mind.

[lifeinpoetry]

Poppies

I dream of leaving a sea of poppies on my bedroom floor. My light is deteriorating.

There’s nothing I can do but watch.

— Diamond Sharp, from Super Sad Black Girl

[lifeinpoetry]

“I can’t translate myself into language any more.”

— Alice Notley, from “Ruby Goes to Pieces,” Culture of One

[foxessius-blog]

[poeticsofdeath]

Currently listening to. 

[dame-de-pique]

Lewis M. Rutherfurd (1816-1892) - Moon, March 6, 1865

[poeticsofdeath]

My symbol is the death of light and the flame of death. Sparks die in me only to be reborn as thunder and lightning. Darkness itself glows in me

 Emil Cioran, On the Heights of Despair  (via poeticsofdeath)

[sleepinginthesnow-blog]

The night holds the moon in its many mouths.

[luthienne]

…I was doing violence to my illusions with analysis…

Anaïs Nin, from an diary entry in The Diary of Anaïs Nin: Volume 1, 1931-1934 (via pattiocleavis)

[tristamateer]

FOR MY GIRL (NO, NOT THAT ONE. NO, NOT THAT ONE.) Baby, fuck the old love poems. I keep them around as a reminder to do better. I have written whole books for other people but the quantity of poetry doesn’t measure the love, just the hurt. Just the pole I wanted to wrap myself around like a fast car; but it’s on a road I no longer take the exit for.

Trista Mateer (via 7-weeks)

[inkskinned]

what a cold star i would make.

seven word poem // r.i.d (via inkskinned)

[wordsnquotes]

Inhale and hold the evening in your lungs.

Sebastian Faulks, Engleby (via mirroir)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I am clouded and bruised with the print of minds and faces and things so subtle that they have smell, colour, texture, substance but no name.

Virginia Woolf, from The Waves (via violentwavesofemotion)

[twinlights]

i wanna be curled up in a hollow of strawberries and violets in a neverending, chirping, humming, warm forest all alone