cuz we some classy mother fuckers.
must have been out of his mind.
I wish we could just belt out “the taste of ink” one last time.
“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.”
-E. E. Cummings
.اگر مرگ نبود همه ارزویش میکردند
If there was no death, everyone would wish for it.” —Sadegh Hedayat (via observedintoexistence)
On a 3-leg table in our friendship, a beautiful vase adorned,
Crafted from our memories, and the deepest words we spoke.
As I left I grew resentful, and took a leg with scorn.
The table rocked and wobbled, and the vase fell and broke.
A glimpse at our past, now shattered on the floor.
The sound of our laughter and the beauty of our tears,
The crashing sound resounding, of this and all our fears.
I raged about the vase; thus, never heard the door.
Little did I know, your wings would bear the shards.
I cannot follow but I can’t just let you leave.
I resolve to be the best man possible, that’s all you’d ask of me.
You were the sunshine in the rain, the beauty in the changing of the leaves, and you made rainbows your bitch. I will always love you.
I want to tell them all to fuck off and have some respect. I can’t even form the words, and they’re swarming her last memory… I can’t even imagine what they’re saying about her..
I’m gonna snap…
Whether I’m the only one to witness.. or someone becomes the object of my aggression…
All this pent up rage/pain/love/sorrow is coming out at once…
Don’t fuck with it.