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When you kiss your new girlfriend I wonder if she appreciates the fact that you taste like thunderstorms, if she can feel the crackle of lightning on your tongue.
When you toss your hair over your should and laugh at something she said I try to recall the last time I lit up your world like that.
When you don’t look my way, I remember when you didn’t love me anymore.
When you look at her, I remember when you did.
You supposedly left, but you linger. (via poppyflowerpoetry)

They ask me
“How’s home”
And I don’t know how to answer

Because home is your poison lips pressed so firmly against my neck
That purple love marks appear
It is the safety I find when our limbs are intertwined like tree roots
Trying to survive
It is the communication we experience during silence
Through slight head nods and wandering eyes
It is nails digging into flesh and closed mouths
So we don’t wake the neighbours

They ask me,
“How’s home”
And I don’t know how to answer

Because I haven’t been home in a while.

backbreakinq (via backbreakinq)

The things I write about you are not pretty.

For example: You are the ugly way I feel about Los Angeles, mouth a smear like sunset singed with citrus burns. Hollywood hill is a smashed pomegranate against your scorched teeth. All the stars walk the red carpet while I write sonnets to your mouth. It’s been too long since the last time we spoke, I’ve forgotten what everyone else looks like — your hands are trees made of smog, and they have taken root in my lungs. I wish this city would burn to the ground.

For example: The last time I fell in love, I broke all the dishes in the kitchen and bled out on the floor. You were not good for me. You held the bandaids, but I told you to put them back in the drawer. I loved being so broken for you — your heart was a hospital without the healing. My parents never taught me that being loved for your wounds was wrong.

For example: Tonight, I am falling asleep without you. I’ve had bad dreams ever since we met, things about dark-haired women that die because they never ran fast enough. I never ran fast enough. I’m still learning what it’s like not to find your face etched into the wood of my floorboards, and I’m failing miserably. You were not good for me.

For example: You were not good for me. You were California burning, and my lungs couldn’t take it. You were not good for me. You were a broken spine I couldn’t set; I was a scab you always picked. You were not good for me.

For example: Get out of my poetry, nobody wants to read about the ways we broke. Get out of my poetry, this isn’t about you anymore. This is about Los Angeles and how much I hate the sky. California wasn’t good for me — nothing about dying is pretty.

Burn Victim | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

edwardspoonhands:

thelegendofkungjew:

doxian:

d-dinosaur:

rknjl:

newvagabond:

NO “TELEPHONES”. TALK TO EACH OTHER. FACE TO FACE ONLY. WRITE A LETTER. SEND A TELEGRAM TO YOUR MOM. PRETEND IT’S 1860. LIVE.

NO ‘WRITING’… TALK TO EACH OTHER. THROW A ROCK AT YOUR MOM. PRETEND IT’S 10,000 BCE.  LIVE.

URGGA. ROU GRAAURH. RUH.

<SMACKS HANDS ON WALL WITH PAINT.>

NO ‘HIGHER BRAIN FUNCTIONS’ …USE YOUR REPTILIAN BRAIN

EAT YOUR MOM’S CORPSE SHE DIED TO PROVIDE YOU WITH SUSTENANCE

PRETEND YOU HAVE JUST AROSE FROM THE SEA

SURVIVE

NO “MULTICELLULAR TRAITS”….. USE YOUR SYMBIOTIC MITOCHONDRIA

REPRODUCE ASEXUALLY, YOU’RE YOUR OWN PARENT

PRETEND IT’S 2BYA

EVOLVE

NO “LIFE.” USE FUNDAMENTAL PHYSICAL FORCES TO FORM SPHERICAL OBJECTS REVOLVING AROUND ONE ANOTHER IN SPACE. 

FUSE HYDROGEN INTO HELIUM USING GRAVITATIONAL PRESSURE TO PRODUCE HEAT AND LIGHT. 

PRETEND IT’S 4.5BYA.

STABILIZE INTO EQUILIBRIA

(Source: agirlandhisplatypus)

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