In the corners of a poppy field
she wades, watching the clouds
pass between the forest
and a river — bubbling over eyelids.
Today she cannot bring the rain;
she screams to the sky.
Swell the banks and lift my feet,
drag my rose painted toes
out to sea.
But all is quiet
in the corner of a world waiting;
in the corner of a poppy field
a sunflower sprouts from the earth
and in the shadows of a willow
a princess dreams of rain.
Michel Lazzarothe daughter of a lonely sun (via elzaro)

90 notes

fear

michaellottner:

you know exactly
how to break me down
exactly how much slant
your look needs so
deserving of my pain
of my undying love

but as clouds gather
and disperse without
a storm to break our tension
i become increasingly
afraid of the rain
.

129 notes

karengilian:

misscherrylikesitdirty:

I think I might have broken my finger reblogging this. 

EVERYONE TAKE A MINUTE TO JUST APPRECIATE THE FACT THAT DONALD GLOVER EXISTS AND KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK IS UP

(Source: the-average-gatsby)

553,718 notes

buttonpoetry:

Yesika Salgado - “How Not to Make Love to a Fat Girl.”

"In the past, I’ve apologized for my size with silence."

Performing during the July 2014 slam at Da Poetry Lounge in Los Angeles. Subscribe to Button on YouTube!

759 notes

themarsultor:

officialfrenchtoast:

Chinese SWAT officer unable to get time off 24 hr shift to take wedding photos. Studio comes to his station instead. [via]

Everybody needs to step they game up I swear this shit goes so hard.

36,990 notes

You don’t need another human being to make your life complete, but let’s be honest. Having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn’t see them as disasters in your soul but cracks to put their love into is the most calming thing in this world.

Emery Allen (via beatboxgoesthump)

(Source: wethinkwedream)

161,279 notes

dauntlesshadowhunterravenclaw:

TACO NEEDS TO KEEP HIS LITTLE MOUTH SHUT 

(Source: mykingdomforapen)

313,568 notes

xombiedirge:

Ammo Box Demons by Augie Pagan / Blog

476 notes

He feels like
an old
favorite song
of mine.
The 90’s by Royla Asghar (via poems-of-madness)

471 notes

shadows

michaellottner:

let me take you back
to the loneliest days that i’ve had

a curl on every leaf
and it goes up in flame

you promised me
that you would never forget my name

and there were shadows
in my bedroom, the closet in the corner

and they spoke to me
about every night we spent together

and they screamed at me
about every morning your hair woke me

and they wept for me
because these shadows were on your walls too

and they confessed to me
in a whisper that i had to strain to hear

and they softly spoke
but i could’ve sworn nothing was ever so loud

and the cracks in my lips
longed for yours to fill them just right

and i knew that on this night
the shadows would never stop growing

and it was every lie you ever said
that drowned the sun every night since
.

204 notes

There is only the question
of whether to leave
the door open — a question mark
dangling off the ceiling,
as if awaiting footsteps
for answers.

Silence hovers in the air,
pregnant with meaning,
throbbing madly,
still.

The answer is not in the way
the door frame trembles
as if to say “Don’t go,”
but in the shattering
of a thousand broken parts,
the gentle thud
as the last piece hits bottom,
as two lives begin to yet again unfold,
silently,
in opposite ways.

how it ends, Jamela Dabuet (via inklustt)

85 notes

absentpoetics:

Light
rests it’s cheek
on your pillow;
there’s no mother
to call your name,
eyes clenched
in expectancy.

I’ve never flown
with flat feet
on cold metal,
arms out stretched,  
fingertips
mimicking a motion;
can you hear her
chirping
far away from
the streetlights,
begging you to
come back?

How much farther
till the cosmos
show me
how small I am
as I drift
scrambling to
remember her scent.
It’ll sit on my tongue
till I inhale
again
and find nothing
to sustain me. 

Bundles of grass
sway
in the distance,
sheets wrinkled
in your hands. 
This is how I left you,
the fine strokes
of a still portrait.

36 notes

ipecrack:

i stole the wings from icarus
who could not hold me—
too busy holding broken bones,
a slump of human life so rife with disappointment,
pray for something
lend yourself to god — or gods — on the symbols of your knees
and cry, “why can’t i die?”
i stole wax wings from icarus
because the sun has not been kind to me 
& i am such a pacifist, 
i want to make my truce and fall
and fall.. and fall by the irony of light
i gag upon the burns inside my throat
and i follow midnight
in a suit
of broken bones

13 notes