Today is made of yesterday, each time I steal toward rites I do not know, waiting for the lost ingredient, as if salt or money or even lust would keep us calm and prove us whole at last.
— Anne Sexton (via howtotalktogirlsdialectically)
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six word poem 6/6
Prompt: “In love with someone who brings you immense happiness but you know in the long run isn’t good for you”
Eventually,
our medicines
become our
symptoms. -
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Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?
— The Stranger, Albert Camus
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(Source: spaceghostzombie)
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The hills are made of gold. (at Bernal Heights Park)
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Imagine a day without a day behind it, a night
without a previous night.
Imagine Nothing and something in the middle
of Nothing.
What if you were told this tiny something was
you?— Edmond Jabès - Adam, or the Birth of Anxiety (via ahuntersheart)
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But wait, there’s a twist.
