I can’t feel anymore,
everything I know is gone.
The mania has set in,
it’s the only thing that’s real
in this inescapable plane of “reality.”
Some say it’s a curse,
I say it’s a prize.
But that might be the radio.
Because after all,
my thoughts are audible.
I can’t tell what’s mine anymore.
I screamed.
That is one of the cutest things I have ever seen in my life.
GUYS!
(Source: alricoheladodetuttifruti, via kajikitsune)
(via king-pollux)
But I don’t want comfort. I want poetry. I want danger. I want freedom. I want goodness. I want sin.
(Source: absurdreasoning)
Place this person—who in the banal light of day is so normally, neutral, unassumingly attractive—place him (or her) at the bar and what happens? Genes, and environment will mix like memory and desire, slightly accentuating the inherent, latent below-lit factor that, when paired with the perfect musical accompaniment, should produce the desired effect for patron and proprietor alike: just a hint of darkened, enlarged eyes, the gentle emphasis of the cheekbones that cast shadows that trail upwards. It’s a win-win.
I will not play tug o’ war.
I’d rather play hug o’ war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins.
(submitted by straightawaydangerous)
(Source: chanelbagsandcigarettedrags, via thetruthisone-deactivated201203)
To the eastern grove where a spring rises
I’ve come from afar to meet the monk;
Where rocks form shallows in the cold river,
And the moon sets on the empty mountains.
Between dreams I listen to the crisp currents,
My cares washed away by the clear ripples;
To be active or passive is never by design—
Only a transcendent mind can understand.
(Source: heartmindawakening)
I can’t seem to get a break in life.
