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YAYYY. I will be the happiest clam (on the beach.)
Quote reblogged from #4TUMBLR with 10 notes
If our friendship depends on things like space and time, then when we finally overcome space and time, we’ve destroyed our own brotherhood! But overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. And in the middle of Here and Now, don’t you think that we might see each other once or twice?
Jonathan Livingston Seagull, Richard Bach (via terminill
)
Source: terminill
Quote reblogged from Something Pretty with 22 notes
I rode beside the train tracks and watched the sun glistening on them, and I would have been glistening, too, if anyone cared to look. But sometimes you just have to be your own eyes. You have to see yourself shining and stop waiting for other eyes to see you.
Martine Murray, How to Make a Bird (via oatsandsparkle
)
Source: oatsandsparkle
Kurt Vile - On Tour
I like this guy. he makes yesterday feel just as beautiful and faded as 50 years ago.
Source: youtube.com
breakwater.
Feet bullied the rocks to breathe through the cracks
As bottles underarm were slammed against sharp grey and
Foam blurred the vision
Amber ghosts breaking along stretches of wind
Into high water
While the cold expanded in our ears
A painful burst and oh –
I suppose the canals had flooded
And I was a traitor
A not-so-resilient accomplice to the storm with
Salt crystals clinging to my lips
And the sky
Drumming at your skin with clumsy palms
Me shaking under its grip, wishing
That I was the palm and the sky was the echo.
Easy
Easy now. Look at me with simple eyes. But not too fast - your lashes sting the skin of my cheek. Soft-burning between some sort of connect-the-dots. I wanted it to be the perfect picture but here I am like a shadow turning in on itself under your gaze. My veins shrink at the sun. But please don’t mind, don’t go. I want you in the dim corners of these woods. Maybe I would unfurl in the palm of your hand like the plants we found in the meadow when we were young.
nov. 7th
Something hard nestled up against the inside of my ear
Its shudders reverberated throughout my skull
Until they settled their sharp claws into the bone
Just above the bridge of my nose
And curled around the cartilage
Like the sharp tongue of a snake.
Vision spotted with colourful streams of venom
Figures obscured by an egg-white sheen
Mouth tangled in heavy panting vines.
And still it slept, some half-life creature
Between the space of sound and breath.
Post with 3 notes
Wish I was a magical creature.
To compensate, I will channel unicornswag all weekend.
That’s right, bros:
Unicornswag. One word.
My life isn’t going to play back like the short, beautiful clips of a movie reel. All in sharp focus and perfect angles. No, not that. But there will be small bursts of laughter that fall outside of the screen and get obscured by ugly landscape and sadder days blurred by a heavy sky. And voices will get loud sometimes until everything is cacophonous and the soundtrack is inaudible. It will still be there, though. Those songs will have played. I will have heard them. Here you go, I’ll say. Here’s my movie. And the critics will hate it but it won’t have been edited and it won’t be beautiful and it’ll be more real than anything that was ever made behind a camera or in my head or some boxed-up room full of black-tie men who pretend they’ve felt happy enough to burst out and scream when really all they ever felt was the prick of a needle.
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