There is always beauty.

It is possible that far too often she enjoyed looking through tear dried eyes at the afternoon and night skies. She glanced and often stared as though something there would answer a question she didn’t know how to ask. As if she had the key to herself but couldn’t find the lock. If only she could find the lock.

As if something there was looking down at her in her solitude and solved her human condition. As though there was an effortless connection being made to all that was, is, and will be. Perhaps she could have spent more time looking forward, instead of up, but up she looked and this, this is when she felt like she was home.

soundtheviolins:

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do…

soundtheviolins:

beware those who seek constant crowds for they are nothing alone

-Charles Bukowski, The Genius of The Crowd 

YA I do have a mohawk. Now excuse me while I go prepare for the counseling sessions I have with the young girls your perfectionistic ideals have raised. The ones that starve themselves and cut themselves raised in your picture perfect family. Ya. I DO have a mohawk. 

Liquid lava battling down my veins

spilling out the edges into my eyes

meeting my heart

pumping

heat into these thoughts.

My eyes, my windows

emit a strange gaze.

I can see you and I see fire.

Your soul, bright, vivid.

In silence, we gaze into each other

exploring this renewed passion.

I can feel you.

Your eyes are pouring your gaze into my veins

into my soul

meeting my heart pumping heat into heat into these thoughts.

Deliberately, protectively cloaking

the flames

I close my eyes and breathe.

You meet my gaze once more and

suddenly

just as it was ignited

it is doused.

Where did you go?

Will you return?

Wait, don’t walk away.

Tell me!

TELL ME!

How did you reach into yourself and freeze

that cold stare

into my memory?

Spill this secret so I may stop this flow that pumps endlessly…

through me.

Just some time.

(Source: ibi-inspiration)

They just are.

(Source: inhale-exhale-inspire)

When being honest about who you are means he won’t love you, he doesn’t love you anyway.

renshenghorreaandthepursuit:

Wisdom

(Let’s just ignore that jealousy was spelled wrong). 

charlenewilde:

“We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.”

- Charles Bukowski