73Every morning I sit at the kitchen table over a tall glass of water swallowing pills. (So my hands won’t shake.) (So my heart won’t race.) (So my face won’t thaw.) (So my blood won’t mold.) (So the voices won’t scream.) (So I don’t reach for knives.) (So I keep out of the oven.) (So I eat every morsel.) (So the wine goes bitter.) (So I remember the laundry.) (So I remember to call.) (So I remember the name of each pill.) (So I remember the name of each sickness.) (So I keep my hands inside my hands.) (So the city won’t rattle.) (So I don’t weep on the bus.) (So I don’t wander the guardrail.) (So the flashbacks go quiet.) (So the insomnia sleeps.) (So I don’t jump at car horns.) (So I don’t jump at cat-calls.) (So I don’t jump a bridge.) (So I don’t twitch.) (So I don’t riot.) (So I don’t slit a strange man’s throat.)
Jeanann Verlee; ”Good Girl” (via mirroir)
(Source: undare, via lademarche)
film still from “Drawing Restraint 9”, Matthew Barney and Bjork
(Source: artandrevolucien, via luellarina)
(Source: mysteriesmanners, via mermaidsbones)
love stories are real.
“Marina Abramovic and Ulay started an intense love story in the 70s, performing art out of the van they lived in. When they felt the relationship had run its course, they decided to walk the Great Wall of China, each from one end, meeting for one last big hug in the middle and never seeing each other again. at her 2010 MoMa retrospective Marina performed ‘The Artist Is Present’ as part of the show, a minute of silence with each stranger who sat in front of her. Ulay arrived without her knowing it and this is what happened.”
(Source: carlosbaila)
(Source: jessbloomforever, via thepolishprince)
Beautiful, sobbing
high-geared fucking
and then to lie silently
like deer tracks in the
freshly-fallen snow beside
the one you love.
That’s all.
Richard Brautigan, “Deer Tracks” (via oofpoetry)
(via colourmegreenwich)
So therefore I dedicate myself to myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my suffrances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger, because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being.
Jack Kerouac (via doworkstayclassy)
(Source: larmoyante, via colourmegreenwich)
The Ecstasy of St. Theresa
~Gian Lorenzo Bernini
Marble
Santa Maria della Vittoria, Rome
(via montanawildhack)
“All Tomorrow’s Parties”
Alana Zimmer, Kasia Struss, and Julia Stegner in W March 2013
photographed by Tom Murno
I knew it wasn’t too important, but it made me sad anyway.
J.D. Salinger; “The Catcher in the Rye” (via boredartonline)
(Source: theburnthatkeepseverything, via lifeinpoetry)
