(Source: hernameiskayla, via bbeennnneetttt)
Now that my family is all together under one roof I can truly begin to be miserable again
(Source: arsvivendi)
if you’d let me unwind you
like you want me to
i doubt we’d even make it to the bed
surely it would feel
almost as sweet as
my tobacco would taste
on your porch
wearing nothing but the heat
watching you,
nothing less than a god
watching me,
nothing more than a child
blow smoke across the hollows
of your chest
We only write about two feelings: one is the first day of summer when you and all of your friends are standing on the edge of a cliff watching the sun set and being overcome with all of your hopes and dreams at once. The other is when you’re walking alone in the rain and realize you will be alone forever.
by The Drums
by The Drums
(Source: hazor)
A note collected at the scene of an alleged suicide. A documents examiner can compare the handwriting in the note to known handwriting from the victim to determine if the person actually wrote the note.
Other people’s words
Gray, green, blue, black, pink
Cataracts of the sky
Daggers thrown at the wind
Blue-eyed men and
Brown-eyed boys who became
Blue eyed men
Sand like sugar between your
Perfect peach toes
Every naked gasp
At the mercy of every steady hand
When the red freckle on
Your right pinkie
Bled onto a plate of fresh carrots
“You can’t take that with you.”
The very first cigarette
Every bubble on
Every scantron sheet
Refining that stupid goddamn number
More like a name than anything
Causeway Bay and
Low-hanging lights
Every porch swing under every canopy
Sucking Shirley Temples through
an impossibly small straw
Every spinach ravioli
That you just could not swallow
Every unfinished plate and
Every empty set of eyes
That never seemed to listen
Every summer on the bluffs
Every time I wished I could just be myself
Til one day on Morrison I realized
In order to cope, I just became someone else
I know this isn’t a poem
And now’s not the time
So I’ll end
With the same questions I started asking
So long ago:
Can I sleep under the table? Can I sit at your feet?
Do you know me? Do you love me? Do you understand?
by A poem for myself, on the eve of adulthood
Gray, green, blue, black, pink
Cataracts of the sky
Daggers thrown at the wind
Blue-eyed men and
Brown-eyed boys who became
Blue eyed men
Sand like sugar between your
Perfect peach toes
Every naked gasp
At the mercy of every steady hand
When the red freckle on
Your right pinkie
Bled onto a plate of fresh carrots
“You can’t take that with you.”
The very first cigarette
Every bubble on
Every scantron sheet
Refining that stupid goddamn number
More like a name than anything
Causeway Bay and
Low-hanging lights
Every porch swing under every canopy
Sucking Shirley Temples through
an impossibly small straw
Every spinach ravioli
That you just could not swallow
Every unfinished plate and
Every empty set of eyes
That never seemed to listen
Every summer on the bluffs
Every time I wished I could just be myself
Til one day on Morrison I realized
In order to cope, I just became someone else
I know this isn’t a poem
And now’s not the time
So I’ll end
With the same questions I started asking
So long ago:
Can I sleep under the table? Can I sit at your feet?
Do you know me? Do you love me? Do you understand?
by A poem for myself, on the eve of adulthood
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Dinah Washington - Cry me a river
(Source: unollodevidro, via elizatittaylor)
