(via asimplersound)
(Source: -cream-and-sugar, via lovelaceinjuly)
No matter how corrupt, greedy, and heartless our government, our corporations, our media, and our religious and charitable institutions may become, the music will still be wonderful.
—Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without A Country (via roadmovies)
(via carelesslifescenicworld)
Alive.
Feeling numb and hollowed out, but the fire was only temporarily stifled. Like ink to water and TNT in the sky, the spark became apparent again. All was not lost. Hope remained a candle in the cold night. This light, this small flicker of a flame became visible and has been fighting it’s way to the surface like a sprouted seed packed and buried waiting for the first rays of gold after a suppressing winter. Gripped thighs and palms pressed together, sweaty. Beating, beating, beating, hearts.
There is still hope.
the cold air is sharp like a knife but the night sky is full of sparkling diamonds.
I wasn’t thinking clearly, I walked across and the branch broke. Not far from the ground, landing with minimal scars. Later I could feel something heavy in the pit of my stomach as if I had knocked something loose. Stale cracker taste. Cloudy mind.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Laura Marling
—Ghosts
Ghosts-Laura Marling
Opened up his little heart, unlocked the lock that kept it dark. Read a written warning, saying I’m still mourning, over ghosts that broke my heart before I met you.
Emotions cannot be permanent. That’s why they are called “emotions”—the word comes from “motion,” movement. They move; hence, they are “emotions.” From one to another you continually change. This moment you are sad, that moment you are happy; this moment you are angry, that moment you are compassionate. This moment you are loving, another moment full of hatred; the morning was beautiful, the evening is ugly. And this goes on.
—Osho (via man-in-the-way)
Endless fucking babbling. Wasted words, wasted hearts, wasted energy. I want real real real.
The car drives beneath the overpass, it’s glowing beams counteracted by multicolored street lights. We laugh so hard our faces become wet and our stomachs ache. Our bodies buzz and seem to flow in time with the traffic on the high way. Our hearts beat with the melodies of our voices and the bass under our seats. We find our youth again at night but become our age in the morning.
In love with everything and very lonely.
I’m looking for some quality penpals. If you’re interested click here.
In love with this.
