Tag Archives: literature

everything

We are here not endlessly but carelessly. It’s all a trapped energy, a secret never known. All my thoughts I tried not to share, you make them come out, but I can’t say that you care. I’ve been in you before.


a note

Outside their frame, is where they concentrate the blame.

But it is never the same, when you know the wheel is not spinning.

It is you that I am calling. I can’t have it all on my own. I need to share – every silence, dream and stare. You cannot be compared to anything that I ever needed to beware. I would give you every piece of my share, just promise me that you will meet me there – where every sound is heard loudly and every word is spoken proudly.

Now that I’ve met my recompense, I am still speaking in past tense. My memory is a clear mess. You taught how to play this chess with broken figures. But it is your tactics that I never figured.

 

‘Regal Twelve' by Alexia Sinclair

‘Regal Twelve’ by Alexia Sinclair


need not

He needed not clear his heart for he knew what was inside of it.

He needed to clear his head.

She tried to help. But

her words left only rehearsed and the meaning was not meant to be accepted.

‘If that’s what you want’, she spoke, ‘well, you can have it. I don’t want to sail against high tides or fly in a windy sky.’

And he let it all slip.

The way it never was.                                                                   March 2014


bite life before it bites you

Bite life before it bites you. And then smash the consequences, kill Life’s pride and show it that you are against it, and you are stronger than it appears, wiser than it seems, smarter than you show, and you know how to love more than anyone else in the world. Show life what it means to be wild, untameable, furious because of your pride, show it what it means to burn with passion. Despite the hurt, against it all. For you are your own saving grace. You are your own island. You are your own sea. You are your own sky. You are your own magic. And nothing and nobody can take that away from you.

March 2014


You call yourself a writer? Go write then!

You call yourself a writer? Go write then, don’t complain about the lack of inspiration. You want to be a writer? Then you’ll have to sacrifice something, your love mainly…Be prepared to be rejected, ignored, don’t-minded, underestimated, looked down to, only because you are truthful and sincere in your life. In your life…what about your writing? Truthfulness, sincerity…your dignity and pride will be totally, fully demolished before you could realize how well you can manage them and how much of them you, in fact, possess. Your head will hurt, your heart will decay but not from the lack of love, from the lack of understanding. All that before you reach that point in your life in which you understand that the most important thing out there is yourself and your art capacity. That your pride is the tool to succeeding consistently and your dignity masters your every act of succession. These two are in a sense of self-respect. That’s all you are, all you ever were, all you’ll ever be. But it is not enough to know it, the key here is to realize it, to feel it in your every bone, to let it rush through your blood and exit you in the form of words. Written, spoken, whatever. All words are art.

But before all that could happen, you will suffer big time. You will be numb, tired, distracted, uninspired, broken, lost. You will stare at the world through only one point of view, and that is lethal for every writer. You will not know what to say, you will not know how to say what scratches your insides. You will not have confidence to use words as a medicine.

                                                                                February 2014

 

Снимки2108


Attack on soul

Just don’t hold anything against me. Unless you decide to be with me. You left the room with my candles still burning and your thoughts yet mourning. I put on your smell and lit a cigarette. I didn’t want to let us both go to waste. Linger on. Fragments. It was all so so nigh but we played each other goodbye. Rudely honest. Full Moon. Half Life. Sleepless hours. Only lights. There was the kind of shit from our fragmented past that we kept behind our teeth. We guarded it, not to interfere with the totality of our common present.

Richard Avedon,  The Comforts

Richard Avedon, The Comforts


8

http://tarnishedsoul.tumblr.com/

Tarnished Soul

http://tarnishedsoul.tumblr.com/


end

All I ever got was this burning cigarette that is never enough

and those faulty circumstances that are making everything so tough.

source: weheartit ( Taylor Momsen)

source: weheartit ( Taylor Momsen)


denouement

The one who doubts in love is cursed to fail in life.

source: weheartit

by Thomas Saliot 

 


**

It’s better to love desperately than to hate sincerely.

Face drops by Francisco Albert Albusac

Face drops by Francisco Albert Albusac