Boo, Forever by Richard Brautigan
Spinning like a ghost on the bottom of a top, I’m haunted by all the space that I will live without you.
you’ll turn out like him and i’ll turn...
A Primer For The Small Weird Loves, Richard Siken
lakefawn: 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 doesn’t listen. You do this, you do. You take the 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 doesn’t move, he doesn’t pull away, and you...
I might break my skin trying to keep all I feel locked inside of me.– Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)
mothhdust: I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about the way I look. I just want to be able to look in the mirror and like what I see.
we no longer breathe; we gasp and we choke and we convulse in the hope that we might have never existed
You can make the world beautiful just by refusing to lie about it.– I Wrote This For You
you said Is there anything which is dead or alive more beautiful than my...– (via eecummings)
Anyone who can touch you, can hurt you or heal...
when i get sad or anxious or angry or when i think my entire world is about to come crashing down i look at photos of the galaxy and suddenly i feel so insignificant— my problems don’t matter; i am only a tiny being in one planet in one out of millions of universes i don’t matter, nothing does
Beneath My Hands by Leonard Cohen
Beneath my hands your small breasts are the upturned bellies of breathing fallen sparrows. Wherever you move I hear the sounds of closing wings of falling wings. I am speechless because you have fallen beside me because your eyelashes are the spines of tiny fragile animals. I dread the time when your mouth begins to call me hunter. When you call me close to tell me your body is...
To lose you would be symbolic of losing the world.– Kōbō Abe
The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniel
In an effort to get people to look into each other’s eyes more, and also to appease the mutes, the government has decided to allot each person exactly one hundred and sixty-seven words, per day. When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In the restaurant I point at chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way. Late at night, I call my long distance lover, ...
Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem...– Ray Bradbury
Oh, Yes by Charles Bukowski
there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often when you do it’s too late and there’s nothing worse than too late.