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So beautiful you have to crush it a little

When you’re so tired you’re tripping

if you come i’ll name you after the sun

Picnic

screaming over at the sufi’s

her lipstick stained all over your mind.

Woke up in the mood for some vulgar art.

you were supposed to fuckin journal about it

I came across our youthful drunken ranting messages of delirious ecstasy and rage and passion from when we were everything, and felt nothing.

Once you’re in beast mode it’s hard to come back

Dawn in the countryside just exists; dawn in the city overflows with promise. One makes you live, the other makes you think. And, along with all the other unfortunates, I’ve always believed it better to think than to live. Fernando Pessoa

you can always survive yourself, you are the sun

love, in all its forms, is too much to ask of only one person

Level the fuck up, girl

He became an open book telling the same story to anyone who’d listen, I became a shuttered haunted library of a thousand untold stories.

What I want is not to see these faces, this daily round of days. I want a rest from, to be other than, my habitual pretending. I want to feel the approach of sleep as if it were a promise of life, not rest. Fernando Pessoa

I could just walk away from everything and disappear in southern Italy why the fuck not

i need to remember who i was before i knew the world

Strange summer, ebbing and flowing between dull nightmares and fever dreams

Counting the hours till I can recalibrate with the sea again