The sickness in me
is not luring
or fashionable
it is cruel and vast
and you’ve no idea
what I’d give
to see it gone.

(Source: afadthatlastsforever)

1 day ago // 2,020 notes
If there is a God, He will have to beg my forgiveness. A phrase that was carved on the walls of a concentration camp cell during WWII by a Jewish prisoner  (via wolvesinthebay)

(Source: notclarissa)

4 days ago // 414,593 notes

somewhere there is a 17 year old girl who smells like pomegranates and has summer air tight on her naked skin, wrapping around her scars
like veins in a bloody garden, who won’t make it past tomorrow,

there is a young man, who buys yellow flowers for the woman
in apartment 84B, who learned braille when he realized she
couldn’t read his poetry about her white neck and mint eyes

there are people watching films,
making love for the first time, opening mail with the
heading of ‘i miss you’, cooking noodles with
organic spices and red sauces, buying lemon detergent,
ignoring ‘do not smoke’ signs, painting murals
of his lips in abandoned warehouses, chewing
the words ‘i love you’ over and over again, swallowing
phone numbers and forgotten birthdays, eating
strawberry pies, drinking white wine off of each
others open mouths, ignoring the telephone,
reading this poem

somewhere
someone is thinking
i’m alone
somewhere
someone finally understands
they never really
were

(Source: irynka)

4 days ago // 42,653 notes
It’s when my mother takes up smoking again
that my father starts to scrub her name off the floorboards.
He says oh, old habit, when I ask after his bleeding knuckles.
I didn’t know his stubbled lips
could say such hard words until there was
enough smoke to fill up all the rooms in our apartment.
I used to pretend the burning smell
was the heat of my mother’s heart,
but it’s been years since imagination dumped me for a better lover.
With his big, tan hands, my father used his fists.
My mother burnt the bed frame and kicked his feet from under him.
I started smashing dishes against the walls just to drown out
the sound of bodies breaking,
started staying the night in the street to get some quiet.
They blamed each other for how I flickered,
fucked angrily on nights they didn’t know I was there,
spat out psalms and dirty words.
It’s when the bruises start showing
and my mother sets her own bones
that my father drinks himself dumb every night.
When I ask after his blackened stomach lining,
he smiles and says
Oh.
Old habit.
For The Day I Discovered My Parents’ Addiction | d.a.s (via razor-echolalia)

2 weeks ago // 528 notes

I only know now that the scientists are wrong.

The world is flat.

I know because I was tossed right off the edge and I’ve been trying to hold on for 17 years. I’ve been trying to climb back up for 17 years but it’s nearly impossible to beat gravity when no one is willing to give you a hand.

1 month ago // 54 notes

I only know now that the scientists are wrong.

The world is flat.

I know because I was tossed right off the edge and I’ve been trying to hold on for 17 years. I’ve been trying to climb back up for 17 years but it’s nearly impossible to beat gravity when no one is willing to give you a hand.

1 month ago // 54 notes
It was a once in a lifetime thing. I hate to think it but I bet it’s true. It’s too bad for us that our once in a lifetime happened when were too young to handle it.

1 month ago // 676 notes
He told me about his monster. His sounded just like mine without quite so much mascara. When people shine a little light on their monster, we find out how similar most of our monsters are.

1 month ago // 72 notes
I can do this… I can start over. I can save my own life and I’m never going to be alone as long as I have stars to wish on and people to still love.

1 month ago // 49 notes
I missed him so much that I had physical sensations of loss all over my body. Like one minute I was missing an arm, the next my spleen. It was making me feel sick, like throwing up.

1 month ago // 42 notes
Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance. Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It does not mean to flow with exuberance. It means to suffer.

1 month ago // 54 notes
I think hell is something you carry around with you. Not somewhere you go.

(Source: stxxz)

1 month ago // 24,479 notes
You are allowed to be alive. You are allowed to be somebody different. You are allowed to not say goodbye to anybody or explain a single thing to anyone, ever.

(Source: larmoyante)

1 month ago // 35,181 notes

hafsaatique:

“i quit smoking in a day and
i terrified her.
i asked her why.

she said:
because. a person that
can quit smoking in a day,
can leave behind anything
and not look back.

what she meant was,
i could leave behind
anyone.”

- “habits”, hafsa atique

1 month ago // 77,229 notes