-
To Myself
BY FRANZ WRIGHT ( Read more... ) -
writing - Charles Bukowski
often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.
no drink,
no woman's love,
no wealth
can
match it.
nothing can save
you
except
writing.
it keeps the walls
from
falling.
the hordes from
closing
in.
it blasts the
darkness.
writing is the
ultimate
psychiatrist,
the kindliest
god of all the
gods.
writing stalks
death
it knows no
quit.
and writing
laughs
at itself,
at pain.
it ( Read more... ) -
this is how it feels
i wanna paint my face and pretend that im someone else
sometimes i get so fed up i dont even wanna look at myself
but people have problems that are worse than mine
i dont want you to think that im complaining all the time
and i hate the way you look at me i have to say
i wish i could start over
im not strong enough to deal with this
i am slowly falling -
numb is the new high
Sketch of your faces I still don’t
know you, (you) aren’t permanent.
You want all of our moments stolen,
blind alleys and hallways to basements.
How are you gonna hide till you disappear?
(Cuz) nothing and nowhere is golden.
Apartments are cages I still don’t know what is permanent.
Maybe all my possessions were precious.
Truth is, all my ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
We, we are such selfish creatures. -
Words, Wide Night, Carol Ann Duffy
Somewhere on the other side of this wide night ( Read more... ) -
Everything Is Illuminated.
We burned with love for ourselves, all of us, starters of the fire we suffered -- our love was the affliction for which only our love was the cure...
( Read more quotes... )
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