January 2012
“I slept with faith and found a corpse in my arms on awakening.”
– The Book Of Lies, Aleister Crowley (via hypnobate)
“Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.”
– Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler’s Wife (via ses-amour)
snow melts in the moon’s glow (see it flow)
glistening skin light wearing thin an outstretched hand lifts up the sea curtain
whispering white breaths turn into tears ...
“They were so broke, they were looking out their window which overlooked a...”
– Johnny Rotten on Sid and Nancy (via thefagartist)
wahh wah wah wah wah wah wah
for many reasons.
wah
“She walked
like a holocaust; and closing her eyes,
she touched the invisible,...”
– Black Pantheress, Pablo Neruda (via hypnobate)
“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to...”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson (via justbesplendid)
“What can be explained is not poetry.”
– W.B. Yeats (via bodasdesangre)
What you really said: I think serial killers are interesting.
What they think you said: I'm going to become a serial killer and murder all of you in the most brutal way possible and then use your heads as lamp shades and cook your livers for a nice tasty snack.
