Prayers and Mantras Will Be Blown By The Wind And Emit Positive Spiritual Vibrations… Namaste 🙏🏼

I. Black and white, I dream of hands I’ve never felt, the ghost of lips trace over my skin and it almost feels like a promise if I clench my teeth hard enough. II. We are both breathing the same stardust from a galaxy away, every inhale an unspoken ‘I love you,’ every exhale an ‘I’m sorry, I love him more.’ III. The stars continue to burn but I am already ashes. You are forever Apollo, rising in the East and I am falling like lukewarm snowflakes. IV. You don’t sleep enough to dream of my hand against your throat, you begging me to make you mortal- you never will be. You will forget about this. V. I will not. VI. Cassandra warned me not to love you and if I clench my teeth hard enough, I can pretend I never did.

oh, well isn’t this a tragedy || O.L. (via poetbitesback)

I am my lover. I am the one that tends my garden. I am the one I will always say goodnight to last.

Nicholas A Browne (via wnq-writers)

I’m currently rereading Life On Mars by T.K Smith & I swear my feet might be grounded in this old city but my head is somewhere in between a burning star & the edge of a distant galaxy. 

boats | julie zlo

the things we learn on our mothers’ laps

see that lady standing there between the window & the fire extinguisher? she’s just lost her father & i think her boyfriend just left her.

why the fuck would you say that?

i’m telling you, i’ve got this superpower. i just know.

how’s that? a superpower?

not a marvel studios superpower, u silly. more like this supreme capacity. i’ve always had it.

when my dad abandoned my mom, she lost herself in the world’s most dangerous drug: poetry.

she used to hold me on her lap while reciting emily brunte & sylvia plath.

i think that’s why i can read into people’s sadness.

when i come across sadness on the street, authentic sadness, the blues crawl out their host & come talk to me. i’m thinking of starting a mémoire or a blog on it. like that humans of new york, u know?

talk about those things we learn on our mothers’ laps…

i reckon everyone who’s lucky enough to have a mum will undoubtedly learn something whilst resting on her lap. my mom used to sit me on her lap while she revised old latin scriptures & tried herself at egyptian hieroglyphics.

that’s why sometimes tombs & churches murmur their secrets to me. they tell me stories about the afterlife & how, if demanded gently, fire can caress the soul the way water strokes the curves of an overflowing vase.

they find it hilarious that we make a big deal out of our own end.

when all there really is, is an everlasting void.

- @skinthepoet

I couldn’t quite comprehend what betrayal was, but suddenly with your knife in my back - betrayal has never tasted so bittersweet.

j.b.r - 17.05.16 (via lucid-vissions)