source: henrycharlesbukowski
"we have come
so far
and gone
nowhere.
we have lived
so long
and
hardly
at all"
∴ Charles Bukowski (via shesinacoma)
(via asiwroteoneday)
source: henrycharlesbukowski
"we have come
so far
and gone
nowhere.
we have lived
so long
and
hardly
at all"
∴ Charles Bukowski (via shesinacoma)
(via asiwroteoneday)
source: rafaboreanaz
Eli [x]
(via flowerscintillates)
source: youjustyou
source: danseurs
"There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won’t remember and that she can’t even let herself think about because that’s when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it’s always raining a slow and endless drizzle.
You will hear that she has left the country, that there was a gift she wanted you to have, but it is lost before it reaches you. Late one night the telephone will sign, and a voice that might be hers will say something that you cannot interpret before the connection crackles and is broken.
Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again.
Whenever it rains you will think of her."
∴
Neil Gaiman
(via danseurs)
(via flowerscintillates)
(via flowerscintillates)
source: unhealedscar
(via flowerscintillates)
source: only-by-night
(via katelizabeth)
source: iheartwaldorf
(via katelizabeth)
source: aplaceinsidemybrain
source: thoughtcatalog.com
"All it takes is a familiar laugh, a recognizable word and you are transported to who knows where. You are a confused paleontologist now, scrambling to make sense of things left behind, trying to reunite the right dinosaur with the right bones. The scar from his burst appendix goes here, the part of his leg that doesn’t grow hair belongs there, I think this is his morning breath but maybe it belongs to someone who came before him; some other ghost, some other relic. His taste is an aftertaste now, his crow’s feet a souvenir with no place to call home. That’s what moving on is like."
∴ What Moving On Is Like | Thought Catalog (via 52hearts)
(via 52hearts)
source: growing-orbits
"… It is unbearably painful
For the soul to love silently."
∴ Anna Akhmatova, from The Complete Poems (translated by Judith Hemschemeyer)
(via brokenmachine)