Say You Do Start Over 
& The Deer In Your Brain Start Chasing Rabbits. Say You Decide To Be Less A

exposed, tortured, ecstatic—

Denise Levertov, from Sands of the Well: Poems; “Unaccompanied,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

the dirty & the imbecile

my heart, falling victim to a kidnap my own head had devised,

cries a thousand fears under a flickering lamp.

my heart, freed from a crime my own head once orchestrated,

sings hallelujah in the rain.  

- @skinthepoet

our love burned hot and bright, but baby, not even forest fires can burn forever

burningbridgets (via wnq-writers)

Prayers and mantras will be blown by the wind and emit positive spiritual vibrations… Namaste 🙏🏼 at 5.357m http://ift.tt/2w44udz

So I entered. So I lost.       I lost it all with my eyes   wide open.

Ocean Vuong, Threshold (via: skinthepoet)

lost o’clock  by jezzini 

but isn’t time just the carbon copy of a man-made concept brewed                           when a few thousand breaths                           twist their heads in reverse?

then there’s daddy hawkin saying time is an everlasting pie                           where its ending meets our cries &                           its purpose, don’t dare to fuckin’ ask.

some nights,                     when my minutes end their shift & my sighs wander adrift, i hear the clock                     spill its sins in pointless ticks;                                 the way those seconds come                                 climbing up these bones then diving down my throat                                 in emptiness. in the grey & the low;                                                        in these words i aim to draw                                                       on the skins of poems screaming love                                                       with perfect rhythms                                                               but no blood.

On turning  24 and shedding skin

I walked through being 23 empty-handed & lonesome; stripped off the warmth in the mold that casted my existence. A complete year away from the lands I used to call home. Being 23 was very much about trying to become both tender as the blue in the sky & daredevil as the red dancing in flames. In aiming to be everything, life felt wilder than ever before; in aiming for the sun, my thinking sometimes got reduced to mere shorthand. A year I finally dared to flood. And in doing so, I ran face first into several walls that tore open my skin. I learned that some people will lie straight to your face; and it’s not like in the Hollywood realm where an evil look or a stuttering voice will give away their lying. It’s usually the opposite: pretty, very pretty smiles that will convince you to run barefoot on shattered glass. It took time and guts to wrap my head around the idea that it’s okay to walk into these labyrinths; to understand that some of the doors we open will lead to black holes and it’s not a crime but nature to let the body get absorbed into the void. 

Nature as living art. Nature as force. Nature as the shadows of our dreams. Nature as morning walks. Nature as being. My 23s were all about nature and my relationship with her. It felt like befriending a neighbor and finding out they’re cool as fuck: ‘hey you’ve always been there and it’s just now that I realize I’ve been missing out on great things all these years’. I bonded with nature and her frozen whites, vivid greens and Mediterranean blues. She held my hand and walked me barefoot through silent rainforest. She looked at me with eyes that shouted ‘dare to become’. And then it hit me: I’m more ready than ever to touch the world with my bare hands... even if it melts down in flames.