pleoros:

Irenaeus Herok

Bondi Haze

19 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from thequietkidwhoisavocalist with

"I’d rather chase the sun than wait for it."

Markus Zusak (I Am the Messenger)

(Source: cinderellainrubbershoes)

19 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from teachingliteracy with

holdentumblr:

John Lennon / Elvis Presley

Audrey Hepburn / Lolita

Woody Allen / Malcolm X

19 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from holdentumblr with

"Move forward
and repeat after me with your heart:

“I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.”

Make love to me
like you know I am better
than the worst thing I ever did."

Buddy Wakefield, “We Were Emergencies” (via larmoyante)

19 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from buttholepoetry with

19 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from mishatron with

mydancingdreams:

distraction:

cincosoles:

Emma Watson for the Natural Beauty campaign.

she better win

She’s perfect

mydancingdreams:

distraction:

cincosoles:

Emma Watson for the Natural Beauty campaign.

she better win

She’s perfect

(Source: accio-invisiblecunt)

19 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from buttholepoetry with

johndohp:

vanderlylegeek:

sally fucking draper 

Sally Draper appreciation life

(Source: oh-whiskers)

19 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from johndohp with

Don’t sit up late at night because he hasn’t emailed you back yet, even though you’ve sent him five and cried every time you clicked Send

Don’t forget to cook dinner just because he’s gone. Remember, you’ve still got to feed your daughter and yourself. 

Don’t beg the dog to climb into the bed to sleep in his spot so it isn’t empty. She is comfortable on the floor and shouldn’t have to move to soothe your sadness.

Don’t wake your daughter up when you slide into bed next to her, or when you brush her hair away from her face. Her stuffed owl and alligator don’t shake the bed with their halfheartedly stifled sobs.

Don’t pour out what’s left of the room-temperature vodka-cherry juice mix you never finished. Drink it in one gulp and leave the glass on the coffee table to remind you in the morning how you got through this. 

Don’t say that you miss him, because you don’t. You missed him before he even left. Now he is gone. There are no glances to catch, no more midday sex to have, no more stories to share. You can kiss your own collarbone, pull your own hair from the shower drain, and keep yourself happy. 

When you wake up, don’t be confused even for a moment when you open your eyes and he isn’t there. Don’t wonder where he is. You are having enough trouble finding yourself.

Drinking warm vodka and cherry juice is not helping me write this paper in four minutes.

18 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from oh-deir with

head-axe:

the soft sun of too late.
grass grows greener on sides of bland interest
for the same reasons people live in mansions 
and follow popular radio.
a heart flourishes on the tough, hard earth 
where squirrels copulate among thistle and stray cat corpse.
old things cling to other old things;
they go nowhere. 
and I see the same cars
driving to the same places 
from my dark porch.
 
—the view is fine from here—
 
you could get drunk on cheap beer
while listening to Waylon
or Cash
or Motorhead,
and shit more soul
than the average man 
in the average department store
or theatre
or restaurant.
we only believe what we want
to believe,
and it has been wrong for ages;
yet it blooms as hemlock
and poisonous mushrooms.
the people look like
cardboard.
 
as machine becomes smarter
man becomes dumber.
 
two wilted flowers 
lean against each other
within the cracks of a
six lane boulevard.
and it is beautiful.
it is the most beautiful thing
you will ever see.
the soft sun of too late.
 
—the view is fine from here—
photos and words by Jay Halsey

head-axe:

the soft sun of too late.

grass grows greener on sides of bland interest

for the same reasons people live in mansions

and follow popular radio.

a heart flourishes on the tough, hard earth

where squirrels copulate among thistle and stray cat corpse.

old things cling to other old things;

they go nowhere.

and I see the same cars

driving to the same places

from my dark porch.

 

—the view is fine from here—

 

you could get drunk on cheap beer

while listening to Waylon

or Cash

or Motorhead,

and shit more soul

than the average man

in the average department store

or theatre

or restaurant.

we only believe what we want

to believe,

and it has been wrong for ages;

yet it blooms as hemlock

and poisonous mushrooms.

the people look like

cardboard.

 

as machine becomes smarter

man becomes dumber.

 

two wilted flowers

lean against each other

within the cracks of a

six lane boulevard.

and it is beautiful.

it is the most beautiful thing

you will ever see.

the soft sun of too late.

 

—the view is fine from here—


photos and words by Jay Halsey

18 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from burningmuse with

"A man’s bookcase will tell you everything you’ll ever need to know about him."

Walter Mosley (via amandaonwriting)

18 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from buttholepoetry with

"make love
like you have no
secrets
like you’ve
never been
left
never been
hurt
like the world
don’t owe you a
single
wretched
thing."

Warsan Shire (via lefthandscribble)

18 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from buttholepoetry with

teachingliteracy:

Book art by Samantha Huang

(Source: rebelsound)

18 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from teachingliteracy with

(Source: makehhistory)

18 Jun 2013 / Reblogged from teachingliteracy with