Nascentes Morimur
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(Source: siamesee)

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(Source: imisshowitwasbefore)




there goes my heart

Read entirely, then outside the brackets, then inside.


there goes my heart
Read entirely, then outside the brackets, then inside.
Almighty by Jeanann Verlee



by Jeanann Verlee

His twitch. His gaptooth. His meathook hands. His whiskey.
His cocaine. His lie. His momma. His lie. His girl. His lie. His lie.
His mask. His blame. His finger-point. His backstab. His loyal. His game.
His drunk. His spill. His fool. His…

this hits hard

(Source: freshkilos)

(Source: mariekebosma)



want to fix you
save you
or fuck you

I can’t be fixed
and I don’t care to be saved

— Jeanann Verlee, men (via fypoetry)

❝ A romantic she was, but not a pendeja

— The Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Diaz (via chicanafem)

❝ .تَمَزَّقْتُ عِدَّةَ مَراتّ
هذا مَا يَدُلُ عَنّي شَيْأً
أَنَّنِي اَعِيشُ في
i fell apart many times.
what does that say about me
i live through

— nayyirah waheed (via inderacinable)


I Don’t Miss It

But sometimes I forget where I am,
Imagine myself inside that life again.

Recalcitrant mornings. Sun perhaps,
Or more likely colorless light

Filtering its way through shapeless cloud.

And when I begin to believe I haven’t left,
The rest comes back. Our couch. My smoke


It used to be, you’d open your mouth
And the weather changed. You’d
Open your mouth and the sky’d spill

That dry, missing-someone kind of rain
No matter the season. And it hurt
Like a guitar hurts under the right hands.

Like a good strong spell. Now
You’re all song. Body gone to memory.
And guess what? It hurts


— Tracy K. Smith, closing lines to “Vaya, Camarón,” in Duende: Poems (Graywolf Press, 2007)

(Source: memoryslandscape)

Find someone who understands your silence.

(Source: anonimouspoet)