I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn’t have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn’t make for an interesting person. I didn’t want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone.
Charles Bukowski (via aegrum)


You will fall in love with me. Then, just months later, you will fall out. I will pretend the entire time I don’t know it’s coming.
Miles Walser, A Sonnet of Invented Memories (via littletroublegrrl)

(Source: sweetestsiren)



(Source: get-chasedbywolves93)



(Source: )



I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me. That you
are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body.
You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she
will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes
that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and I’ll go back
to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name.

I have chased off every fool who has tried to sleep beside me
You think it’s romantic to fuck the girl who writes poems about you.
You think I’ll understand your sadness because I live inside my own.
But I will show up at your door at 2 am, wild-eyed and sleepless.
and try and find some semblance of peace in your breastbone
and you will not let me in. You will tell me to go home.

(via clementinevonradics)


(Source: leequilibrium)



mattiuw:

Message is the bottle by Marguerite Sauvage

mattiuw:

Message is the bottle by Marguerite Sauvage



I loved all the boys with soft sad eyes, & lost souls.
Grace Coddington (via sadsighs)

(Source: arikaftermath)



(Source: delicate-vacuum)