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http://slothnorentropy.tumblr.com/post/98704637282/rilkes-epitaph-rose-oh-pure-contradiction

slothnorentropy:

Rilke’s epitaph:

Rose, oh pure contradiction, delight
of being no one’s sleep under so
many lids.

It was said: “To honour a visitor, the Egyptian beauty Nimet Eloui, Rilke gathered some roses from his garden. While doing so, he pricked his hand on a thorn. This small wound failed to heal,…

(Source: arabellesicardi, via commovente)

1. wash your hair. It’s been 2 weeks since you’ve gotten out of bed. you’re crying too hard for a boy who doesn’t know that when you were born the doctors found stars in your bloodstream.

2. cheap liquor that tastes like peaches and bleach numbs the pain but it leaves you throwing up and I’m not going to hold your hair back so you can drink him down but he’ll come back up and burn your throat all over again.

3. He’s not worth the black outs and shaky hands. Eat something. He’s just a boy who pulled you in too deep. You don’t need him to save you. Get yourself out.

4. Latch your heart shut. save the key for a boy who wouldn’t mind picking the lock and make him give it back when he leaves, you are a hurricane, not a stitched up chest that he can rip open and let bleed every time he’s bored of misses your voice.

5. Wear the dress you wore on your first date with him every night this week. Make new memories in it so you don’t see him every time you open your closet. Leave it smelling like new boys wrapped around you and pretty girls kissing your cheek with red lipstick and cigarettes and city lights instead of him. You don’t fucking need him.

6. A hot bubble bath, tea, chocolate, a blank sheet of paper and paint can fix things for a night. I hope your bedroom becomes an art gallery. I hope you paint the walls and not your skin.

7. I still have love letters from my first boyfriend in the attic. You might not forget him but you sure as hell won’t always miss him. I won’t let you.

8. Sleep on the floor when your bed feels too empty without him. I’ll bring you extra pillows and blankets.

9. I’m sure he’s heart broken over you.

10. No, she’s not prettier than you baby girl, she’s nothing special.

11. I raised you to be the ocean not pools of blood on your sleeves.

12. He is not the same person you fell in love with. He doesn’t need your voice to fall asleep anymore and that’s okay. You’re in love with a stranger now. You don’t know him. He’s not the boy you kissed last weekend. So let him go. You’re not letting go of the boy you fell asleep with 3 months ago. You’re letting go of someone who doesn’t care if you fall asleep crying or not.

13. Don’t let him wipe away your tears. His fingers are razorblades and your cheeks will drip with blood. Don’t let him turn your freckles red.

14. You are the world. He’s lucky that you let him live in you for so long but he hasn’t been paying rent. Kick him out. He doesn’t deserve you.

15. You will find someone else to give yourself to, but not all of you, keep some for yourself.



Things alcoholic mothers tell their dying daughters (via
extrasad)

(via parisdelusion)

Sex is not the climax of a relationship, pardon the pun, but those moments at 2am when you wake up to her lips on your lips, her sleep-heavy body lying across yours, knowing the world is asleep whilst you move together, calling to a god that neither of you believe in… those moments are what I live for.

(via
nyjahatuatao)

(Source: lilith-not-eve, via kllxx)

http://apoetreflects.tumblr.com/post/98651004765/fluttering-slips-on-the-origins-of-things

fluttering-slips:

On The Origins Of Things

Everyone knows that the moon started out
as a renegade fragment of the sun, a solar
flare that fled that hellish furnace
and congealed into a flat frozen pond suspended
between the planets. But did you know
that anger began as music, played
too…

Your heart is like a great river after a long spell of rain, spilling over its banks. All signposts that once stood on the ground are gone, inundated and carried away by that rush of water. And still the rain beats down on the surface of the river. Every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: That’s it. That’s my heart.

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore (via
tat-art)

(Source: quotes-shape-us, via parisdelusion)

blastedheath:

Hernan Bas (American, b. 1978), The Start of Something New, 2004. Mixed media on board, 31 x 24 in.
arrests:

Portrait of Angelica, by Thomas Robson
theme