words from ma dukes.
now this glass of wine is almost
empty.
i watch the cars peeling off the freeway
out there.
contentment between agonies is the elixir
of existence.
the glass of wine is now empty.
good
night.
empty.
out there.
of existence.
night.
Charles Bukowski (via youngfolksociety)
68I no longer need you to fuck me as hard
as I hate myself.
Make love to me
like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.
Go slow.
I’m new to this
but I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop without jumping.
I have realized
that the moon did not have to be full for us to love it.
We are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it.
as I hate myself.
like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.
Go slow.
I’m new to this
but I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop without jumping.
I have realized
We are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it.
Buddy Wakefield, “We Were Emergencies” (via youngfolksociety)
(Source: ymehcuotrac, via youngfolksociety)
I wonder what you look like, under your t-shirt. I wonder what you sound like, when you’re not wearing words. I wonder what we have, when we’re not pretending.
Ani DiFranco (via youngfolksociety)
(Source: wordsthat-speak, via youngfolksociety)
This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.
Gary Provost (via youngfolksociety)
(Source: atomos, via youngfolksociety)
back porch with my lovely ladies, sydney and sheila, some charles bukowski, a cup of coffee, and brilliant sunshine
(Source: empire-state-of-mind16, via koshique)
This chicken coop by Swedish architect and designer Torsten Ottesjö is designed to look like the protective wing of a mother hen. Situated on a rocky hillside on the west coast of Sweden, the building overlooks an inlet from the sea. The back of the double-curved structure is wrapped in a skin of rough wooden shingles, while the front is clad in wooden slats with gaps to let natural light inside.
If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life.
Pablo Neruda (via alecshao)
(Source: likeafieldmouse)
miss these mothafuckas
