Anonymous asked: Love is?
Anonymous asked: I want to know what a breakup is like.
Guys, you have to listen to Virginia Woolf's...
Click me! :) You’ll thank me for this. (I have a huge talent crush on this woman, hahahaha!)
Be healthy/ier? Balanced diet and all that. I’ve been gaining so much weight lately (HELLO FOOD INDUSTRY) and i’ve been getting sick a lot too Austria Summer 2014. Gotta renew the passport and take care of the papers. Pocket money too. Try acrylic/oil or watercolor and oil pastel combination Ukulele? Start working on that novel and actually try to staple together all the fragments...
I’ve never been loved like this. Never been loved like this. Never been. Never will again. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
This is for the moments that refuse to be named, fragments that have landed on the ground like a grenade. Something inside me wants to get out. Maybe they’re shadows. maybe they’re stars. Call them what you will. This insatiable fire. This boundless force. Like a plot hidden under my repentant tongue. I don’t know what I’ve become but I don’t get paid to imagine. I...
Fragmented memories. That classic air. That visual feast. That olfactory landscape. Your face, a clear definition, of what love looked like.
This brain is a crowd. These neurons have been rain-dancing for hours—sulfuric acid everywhere. They’re all having fun. They’re all having fun with me, as they chant, “Relapse, relapse.”
There is no room for negotiation when your heart is no longer your own. So you start to beg, beg, beg for your need to be turned inside out, to make everything truly vacant, that is to say: to make rooms free from ghosts that lingered in your sheets. Admit it. You’ve been swallowing compasses in hopes of finding a home, burning bridges in defiance to what has gone. Listen. We’re lost,...
Anonymous asked: Hey there. Not to sound high and mighty but in your latest poem, I think you meant to say "it is now safe to..." instead of "it is safe now." Kinda make it more "flowy", right? Just thought it might be a typo or whatever.
This is for the transparency that calls itself love. For that glorious feast. For our trumpet hearts, defeating the howling wind. For April showers and enormous summer flowers, among other things. It is safe now to open the covers. It is safe now to open our eyes. It is safe now to open our senses. It is safe now, to ask you to stay.
Fret not, dear heart. This isn’t the letting go. Here’s to the launching, the triggering, the setting off. Le declenchement. Le declenchement. Le declenchement. From this, we draw our strength.
This is the beginning of the taking. In me is a vessel, And I want, I want you— to fill it.
You and me, from inch to infinity.
I’m an explorer. You’re my favorite ghost town.
Anonymous asked: Tell me about yourself. What are you like?
There are things that I find too difficult to do. Like dancing. Posing in front of the camera. Finding hope in stars. Seeing faces in flower fields. Believing that happiness can be real. Few years ago I kissed you because I was burning bright, but now, I hold on to you because I’m already out of life. There was something about you that my skin had fully memorized, but I’m no longer the...
My christmas present to tumblr
dmterminology: I will design a custom logo or tattoo for whoever re blogs this before December 28. It will be based on your blog. I dont care how many people reblog and i appologize ahead of time if im drawing for the next five years. I DO promise an art thing for whoever reblogs(assuming you dont delete your page or some thing). You can count on it! c; Cool beans!
Merry Christmas, C. You know that I’ve become long-term-goal-phobic due to unfortunate circumstances, but hey, I’m good for another five or fifty years if you are. What do you say?
You beautiful person. You brilliant creature. Tell me what you want from this, and I promise not to leave you stranded in unwritten love letters or in my dying dreams. Your presence gives my happiness a pulse, this slow but consistent beat. So I say yes to slow dancing, with advance apologies for stepping on your feet. I say yes to forgoing God’s eighth commandment, to steal kisses with you at the...
November was a tad harder to let go of than any other month this year. I’ve received a lot of valuable things—both material and intangible—and I haven’t even given them proper appreciative responses. I wonder if I’ll always be like this, in awe of this influx of loveliness and at the same time too scared to acknowledge what I have. Kept telling myself,...
Some people think I’m a walking Hieroglyphics script and I can’t blame them. I’ve been very vague about a lot of things, especially to the ones who know me personally, because I wasn’t sure of what was actually happening right in front of me. Like I was a passive audience of a bland movie. Lately, I’m running out of excuses for not spending time with people, but...
My heart is a compass, and you are my north.
I’m scared, but I want to fall into the depths of you.
Anonymous asked: Paul McCartney" was right. "Michelle, ma belle, sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble." Damn, you are bloody beautiful.
(Things I think about right before I sleep.) It was around ten in the evening when you asked me how long I thought we would be doing this. I got tongue-tied and petrified as I stared at you. So now I apologize for the wait as our hands were tied (in nervous knots,) but you must know by now that there is no need for persuasion and there never will be, for I, I will always clutch onto you....
“Who’s your favorite poet?” “I don’t know. It depends—right now, I’m in the mood for Neruda. And you, of course. As always.” “Me? I don’t even write. Darling, you’re talking to the wrong g—” “I know, I know. But my favorite poets—they do similar things for me. They elicit the same feelings. It’s as if...
Sometimes, I need to take a breather when it comes to everything about us. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to this, when it’s too much and too little in equal measure. I don’t want to screw up. But you’re perfect, far too perfect to be with someone like me, and through experience I know that good things never last long enough. So let me just say, that however this ends,...
Discovered something I’ve written on a crumpled paper napkin twenty-something months ago . It said something like, “I want to be your dandelion. So that the next time you start to cry or sigh in despair, I could really say without the risk of being cliché that you blow me away. And in return, I would scatter my seeds in the air so that you would realize that beauty in the breakdown...
While organizing my stash of old sheets, I stumbled into one that had one line repeatedly written to fill the page. It said something like, “I wish I were a book, so that all I would ever need is a spine to hold everything together.” You are my spine. You are my spine.
If I were a firefly, I would gladly stay at the bottom of your mason jar, for you to stare at, for as long as you wish, as much time it takes for you to realize that my light is all because of you, and my radiance is all for you.
It’s eleven in the evening; I’ve tried so hard to get some rest, but sleep is eluding me. I’m tired of waiting, chasing the hard-to-gets, attempting to save my dying dreams. There’s got to be more than this. I’m tired of living my life with my clenched fists. There’s got to be more than this.
I’ve been trying to make sense of my present habitual actions—that is to take a part of myself to document and place somewhere far and safe from the eyes of many, and eventually do all I can to erase its traces. I wonder if this means I want to keep something for myself alone. Maybe it means I can’t even handle myself. Selfishness, fear, plain insanity, call it what you will, but...
Anonymous asked: Tell me what love should be like.
A slice of cake for the sad little owl.
I spent three quarters of an hour gripping my pen, trying so hard to produce the right words, but still unsure of what to write. Things have been confusing to me lately and all I have are memories so hazy that only abstract pieces of art can make them tangible. Forgive me for trying to romanticize everything, including loneliness, misanthropy and the rest of my negativity. There is nothing noble...
I will write my way to contentment, following how the sunlight finds its way to our windows.
I. When I was a kid, I engaged in balloon flying contests. The mechanics: the balloon that flies the highest is the winning one. I hated it. Balloons aren’t supposed to leave you behind for greater heights. II. Perhaps it was because I spelled ballon as “baloon” in my 3rd grade spelling exam. III. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to let go even when I’m asked to.
I really want to cuddle right now.
Tu n’as pas de place ici. Tu n’as pas de place ici. Tu n’as pas de place ici. Do not go there, restless mind. Do not go there.
The answer is love—my darling—but I’ve long forgotten the question.
There are a lot of things I’d like to say to you. Tonight, my mind is a crossword puzzle. My thoughts evaporate before the words are given a chance to condense. I might as well quit with the pretense and admit that perhaps they decided to visit other wordsmiths this time. Still, my mind is restless and I cannot comprehend why I am feeling so tense. But you must know, these things do not...
Note to self:
Do not waste your time on longing; focus on loving instead.
I knew you were someone worth keeping when I discovered our common love for compartments. Plastic containers, desk organizers and multiple coin banks. Little did we know how much compartmentalization we had to do. There were several versions of me—I was a different person to my family, friends, and acquaintances. Then there was you. Somehow I knew my life can never be a stir-fry dish. I...
Anonymous asked: Why do you know so much about gay people? Are you gay? Don't you know that's a sin? You're immoral. Read the Bible.
To C, I am radiant against you. I am radiant for you. Above all things between us, remember that.
You are like the sun. It’s as if I have stared at you for far too long, my dear, that when I close my eyes, all I see is you.
“I don’t want to mess up with my life any further. Love is a bloodbath.” “No, don’t get it all mixed up. Love isn’t a bloodbath and it never will be. It is the lack of love that makes everything else look like a war zone. So go ahead, take a chance. Love.”
Anonymous asked: Filipino blogger or bloggers you have a crush on?