I took a tumbling hiatus,
The Parking Garage
dumbassfils: do all the fruits i like to eat have Yonic Implications I eat the fruit and I say to myself You should be ashamed of how Obvious you are
The mind is full of monstrous, hybrid, unmanageable emotions. That the age of...– Virginia Woolf (via stickyembraces)
disgustinghuman: i like being on the bus because then i look into people’s cars and watch them pick their noses and then i like to catch their eye and let them know we just shared a moment together
“I say that one must be a seer, make oneself a seer. The poet makes himself a seer by a long, prodigious, and rational disordering of all the senses. Every form of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he consumes all the poisons in him, and keeps only their quintessences. This is an unspeakable torture during which he needs all his faith and superhuman strength, and during...
the is in the most trivial middles explaining and highs wink here milk soul for c l i n g until the droplet pools beneath the glass or f l o a t as embersor m a e t s rise as
The experience of our generation: that capitalism will not die a natural death.– Walter Benjamin: The Arcades Project (via fuckyeahphilosophy)
People think being alone makes you lonely, but I don’t think that’s true. Being...– Kim Culbertson (via ikenbot)
youre not allowed to call people cuties either
dumbassfils: thats a diminutive you ignorant shithead what kind of monster wants to diminish a human fucking being
Had Robinson Crusoe never left the highest, or more correctly the most visible...– Kafka, Robinson Crusoe (via nevver)
I’m a Karamazov… when I fall into the abyss, I go straight into it, head down...– Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (via gloomy-planets) heels up! is mine and matthew’s go-to drink toast
siamese twins severing scalp civil war and cauterized often times the two don’t survive and one tugs the other’s soul in scapeled strokes, but this time will be different, the doctor told the mommy who coiled and stared at the eveness of her shoelaces untying in uniform with the doctor’s word the daddy stood centered and collected if he paced he would be choosing baby...
A poem invites you to feel. More than that: it invites you to respond. And...– Muriel Rukeyser, The Life of Poetry (via litverve)