January 2009
57 posts
The stranger says there are no more couches and he will have to sleep in your bed. You try to warn him, you tell him you will want to get inside him, and ruin him but he dosen’t listen.
You do this, you do. You take things you love and tear them apart or you pin them down with your body and pretend they’re yours.
So you kiss him, and he dosen’t move, he dosen’t pull...
“and in this moment we are infinite.”
Watch
01.
There are stories you want to whisper and tell, spilled like the milk on my kitchen tiles. The crunch of your cereal at the breakfast table and the sound of your laughter. The days are languid, your long limbs, bony and senewy stretched out like a cool cat. I take a drag of your cigarette as you flip the toaster waffle in the pan. I want to giggle and kiss your brows that are furrowed -you don’t...
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not...”
– Nietzsche
“Imperfection is beauty; madness is genius. And it’s better to be...”
“and when he shall die, take him and cut him into little stars and he will make...”
Listen
describes everything so perfectly.
“—-And me, what do I know? what do I know? I walk around in the shoes and coats and things I think people will like me in and I lie to every single person that I see. I worry endlessly about the pointless shit and ignore the important shit and eat pizza and hotdogs in the afternoons. But what do I know? what do I really know? some people say that life is short, and then, well, some people...
“there’s a crack in everything. that’s how the night gets in,...”
– leonard cohen
I like the idea that somewhere in this world, there is a soul that is completely synchronized with yours. I’m not talking about love, I’m talking about someone that gasps at just the right moments during a sunrise. I’m talking about someone whom you just want to take by the hand and reassure, despite the fact that you’re not so sure yourself.
Somewhere in this world,...
“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.”
– Anais nin
the cold of winter sinks into my bones
the ribcage in which you have make your home
dionysian love pangs through audacious eyes
to acerbic sanguinity, this hearts wise.
a red light, a black wound, and shortened breath
strange with grace what meaning I had left.
you embrace me tight with those scale-clad coils,
bathe gently my sorrows with finest lows.
rather than hang in suspense, let me...
“Every morning, when I open my eyes, I think the same four thoughts:
1) I am...”
– Third Class Superhero by Charles Yu (via unicornology)
