Whoever is writing the story of my life,
you’re doing a beautiful job.
I can see it when I close my eyes.
Frozen frames in a slideshow.
I see them;
Open up the sunroof, let the rain fall in.
Sobbing on an airport floor in Dublin.
Because I just can’t imagine leaving you this way.
Sloppy barbecue on a paper placemat.
After an birthday afternoon on a sunny spring bank.
You and me, on my roof, looking at the sky,
and then looking at each other.
Head on head, earphones split, so we can hear
the same music as we roll through the hills.
Pouring rain, kissing on a playground.
Telling you the reason I had fallen in love,
was because I see you and you’re kind.
Your head in my neck,
because I simply like you carrying you places.
And so I carry you everywhere.
I carry you everywhere.
“Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”—Timothy Leary (via mackenziesiobhan)
What is your metaphorical wingspan? As in, how far do each of your wings reach? This question is puzzling me at the moment. As stated before, I’m at the edge of my nest, and now I find it’s harder to jump than I previously expected. What if my tiny little wingspan won’t be enough to sustain all my…
acosmist - One who believes that nothing exists paralian - A person who lives near the sea aureate - Pertaining to the fancy or flowery words used by poets dwale - To wander about deliriously sabaism - The worship of stars dysphoria - An unwell feeling aubade - A love song which is sung at dawn eumoirous - Happiness due to being honest and wholesome mimp - To speak in a prissy manner, usually with pursed lips
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for...