i make myself laugh so much even though nothing i do is remotely funny
(Source: nedroidcomics)
- me all the time: what am i even doing
(Source: ekline)
We look at each other; see that we do not know each other, stare, and go off. Such looks are lashes. I feel the whole cruelty and indifference of the world in them.
— Virginia Woolf,The Waves. (via violentwavesofemotion)
I have no fear of losing you, for you aren’t an object of my property, or anyone else’s. I love you as you are, without attachment, without fears, without conditions, without egoism, trying not to absorb you. I love you freely because I love your freedom, as well as mine.
— Anthony de Mello (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
(Source: starryyeyed)
Deprived of meaningful work, men and women lose their reason for existence; they go stark, raving mad.
— Dostoevsky (via claerwen)
Svyatoslav Ponomarev, Moscow, Russia, 1999
From the series Face to Infinity and Possibility of Transformation [+]
Color Print from Negative Film, Printed in 1999, Vintage Edition
It starts with you;
on a mattress in your parents’ old room,
clipping your toenails into the room like the room will fade,
and you will move onto other rooms, and you will go to other places.
Then the wedding.
Then the woman passed out in the driver’s seat at the order board at White Castle.
We woke her up and she went ‘round to the pick up window like she knew exactly where she was.
Then I wept;
with my face in your night shirt,
trying hard as hell to say
“until death separates us,”
loosening the skin on your breastbone,
I painted your nails.
And you sleep while I write all this down.
There was a moth caught in the soapdish
laminated in lye
Will you still remember me well,
If I don’t get to 2 oh 5?
My dead line Gemini
When we’re on different sides of the globe,
I thought we’d keep our veins tangled like a pair of mic cables,
And if there ain’t enough slack to reach,
then we’d solder them together.
And across oceans they’d stretch.
Our faces reflected in separate windshields,
and all our body hair pricked up.
An elephant eyelash.
Should we be tempted by thief or saint,
it seems I leave, and you stay to crawl the cage and curse.
But don’t regret the done dirt,
there is no life plan set.
You just swallow the cold, and follow your breath until death.
Now even if the will to sleep persists,
I can’t because a harsh cloth, it grazes my blisters.
There was a moth caught in the soapdish
laminated in lye
Will you still remember me well
if I don’t get to 2 oh 5?
My dead line Gemini.
Today I fell asleep in a bath of hair.
Hair that once sprouted from my own white wet chalk follicles.
I swallow a coal, and follow my breath.
And I did it with the grapefruit soap;
thinking of you.
Bathed, shaved, and oiled.
Your legs are two skinny dolphins swimming between the mattress and the layers of bedding,
turning in your drug dry sleep.
When I ask you to kiss my pulse,
you offer to start the shower.
I want a verb, and you give me a noun. What do you dream up while I tongue you down?
There was a moth caught in the soapdish
laminated in lye
Will you still remember me well
If I don’t get to 2 oh 5?
My dead line Gemini.
You know my build.
You know my size.
The degree to which my eyes
are astigmatic.
