Contact me
Theme Credit

Next 1/134
You think ‘Okay, I get it, I’m prepared for the worst’, but you hold out that small hope, see, and that’s what fucks you up. That’s what kills you.

— Stephen King, “Joyland” (via mesquine)

(Source: fuckyeah-unclesteve, via mesquine)

12:41 pm     114,346 notes
April 24 2014

We met before our bodies had an exchange.
Intertwined in the cosmos as nomadic
galactic dust, we lived in the pulse of the universe.
You are unfamiliar physically, but that spirit I know like the route to my house.
I have traveled your map many times, and
each time with different looking baggage.
In this realm, we have never spoken, but your arrival
has been forecasted since before my birth.
I want to sit still in the midst of this chaos, and explain to you
how much I have missed you.

— Mira BothWays, “I’ve Been Waiting.” (via mirabothways)

(via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

3:19 am     1,788 notes
April 24 2014

If love wants you; if you’ve been melted down to stars, you will love with lungs and gills; with feathers and scales; with warm blood and cold.

— Anne Michaels (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

3:18 am     40 notes
April 24 2014

Please don’t, above all,
plant me in your heart.

I grow too quick.

— Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets To Orpheus (via petrichour)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

3:16 am     5,392 notes
April 24 2014

Sleep is still most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved. The warmth, the security and peace of soul, the utter comfort from the touch of the other, knits the sleep, so that it takes the body and soul completely in its healing.

— D. H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

3:14 am     19 notes
April 24 2014

If I could be any part of you, I’d be your tears. To be conceived in your heart, born in your eyes, live on your cheeks, and die on your lips.

— Anonymous (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

3:14 am     76 notes
April 24 2014

you are my life
as I say you, as rain
is the body of the sky
until it dies and has no idea
it ever lived, no memory
except in pools and lakes and rivers
and a glass of water

From Ode Owed to the Mind of the Mouth by Bob Hicok (via hush-syrup)

(via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

3:11 am     26 notes
April 24 2014

Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part;
or kiss anyway, let’s start with that, with the kissing part,
because it’s better than the parting part, isn’t it –
we’re good at kissing, we like how that part goes:
we part our lips, our mouths get near and nearer,
then we’re close, my breasts, your chest, our bodies partway
to making love, so we might as well, part of me thinks –
the wrong part, I know, the bad part, but still
let’s pretend we’re at that party where we met
and scandalized everyone, remember that part? Hold me
like that again, unbutton my shirt, part of you
wants to I can tell, I’m touching that part and it says
yes, the ardent partisan, let it win you over,
it’s hopeless, come, we’ll kiss and part forever.

— Kim Addonizio, “Sonnenizio on a Line from Drayton” (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

3:05 am     28 notes
April 24 2014

We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art—we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones.

—  Anaïs Nin (via cartographe)

(Source: psych-quotes, via cartographe)

2:45 am     16,272 notes
April 24 2014

Thomas Wolfe warned in the title of America’s great novel that ‘You Can’t Go Home Again.’ I enjoyed the book but I never agreed with the title. I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and dragons of home under one’s skin, at the extreme corners of one’s eyes and possibly in the gristle of the earlobe.


I am convinced that most people do not grow up. We find parking spaces and honor our credit cards. We marry and dare to have children and call that growing up. I think what we do is mostly grow old. We carry accumulation of years in our bodies and on our faces, but generally our real selves, the children inside, are still innocent and shy as magnolias.

We may act sophisticated and worldly but I believe we feel safest when we go inside ourselves and find home, a place where we belong and maybe the only place we really do.

— Maya Angelou, Home (via cartographe)

2:43 am     16 notes
April 24 2014