"So plant your own gardens and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers."
Jorge Luis Borges (via syndrome)
Tana French, In the Woods
Leila Sales, This Song Will Save Your Life
Wrote some poetry today and also decided to try and channel the bottled up inspiration into one of my less natural artistic avenues.
I artsed hard today.
I’ve been your anchor;
teach me of wind, let me be
sails to carry you.
Let my words hold you
at arms’ length to hide how my
arms long to hold you.
Tattoo a compass
with no north on your arms; let
me hold you steady.
I wear masks of wit,
build walls of clever, so you
won’t see my eyes plead.
"Smile," he says daily.
“I could smile galaxies, but
black holes swallow me.”
She smiles through stained glass.
He draws her in black lines, can’t
contain her colors.
I erase your eyes
from paper; my hands are smudged
with your charcoal lies.
"If something burns your soul with purpose and desire, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. Any other form of existence will be yet another dull book in the library of life."
Charles Bukowski (via drunkblogging)