The blues are because you're getting fat, and maybe it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid, and you don't know what you're afraid of.

Truman Capote.

(via Rookie).

(by The Sartorialist).

(by Rookie).

Rainy Night.

My bones clatter,
I realize sex is all elbows and ankles.

Love: a bat of eyelashes, a bite of tongue.

(via a metaspace to give them).

Bookends.

He had a theory, Walt did, that the religious life, and all the agony that goes with it, is just something God sics on people who have the gall to accuse Him of having created an ugly world.




J.D. Salinger

(via Rookie).

(via Try).

(via Rookie by Jessica Allen).

(via a metaspace to give them).

this is the best Valentine's Day gift I could ever have asked for:

Some Nights.

Me&Me.

(by Hanging Rock Comics).

(via You Can Try).

Snapshot.

this will be my biggest failing:

not to be able to (keep my head down)
not to be able to walk straight or (keep my hair out of my eyes)

here I am again
kneeling
with two fingers down a swollen throat
like the barrel of a gun.

Advanced Style.

Whenever I get upset with the world, or frustrated with humanity, I watch this.

Oh my! It makes me so happy.

Pediatric Suicide

Being who you are is not a disorder.


Being unloved is not a psychiatric disorder.


I can't find being born in the diagnostic manual.


I can't find being born to a mother incapable of touching you.


I can't find being born on the shock treatment table.


Being offered affection unqualified safety and respect when
          and only when you score dope for your father is
         not a diagnosis. 


Putting your head down and crying your way through elementary 
        school is not a mental illness, on the contrary.


And seeing a psychiatrist for fifteen minutes per month


some subdoormat psychiatrist writing for just what you
          need lots more drugs.


to pay his mortgage Lexus lease and child's future tuition
          while pondering which wine to have for
          dinner is not effective


treatment for friendless and permanent sadness.


Child your sick smile is the border of sleep.


Abandoned naked and thrown to the world is not a disease.


She was unhappy just as I was only not as lucky.
        


Franz Wright.

(via Here and Now).

(via FashionToast).

(by Hanging Rock Comics).

Chapter 17.

"Where are the people?" resumed the little prince at last. "It's a little lonely in the desert…" 
"It is lonely when you're among people, too," said the snake.


The Little Prince.

(via The Sartorialist).

Oh. My. God.

Soft Sheets.

(via You Can Try).

This is what Saturdays are for. 

Libels and Dreams.

rings of blood encircle our fingers
and the spines of forgotten goodnesses
lie curled at the foot of the bed
in a heap
like euthanized cats

but still we run
hump backed and stilt-legged
crying our kingdoms
for horses
for power
for absolution

We'll take it all
but be warned, won't keep it long

determined (to) walk away empty handed
coughing and bloodied
from a battle that
was never fought

at the end of it all:

begging God to say amen

to our own prayers

and furies.

Love.