.even machines have hearts

"I will remember the kisses, our lips raw with love, and how you gave me everything you had, and how I offered you what was left of me."

- Charles Bukowski (via samftw)

(via oceanbreezez)

My Dear

I spoke:
I am complex
like a centric organism
in a cosmos yet to be unfulfilled
My dear what is the matter, what is wrong?
do tell me why you are angry with me
do try so hard not to be petulant
and speak your mind
if not then why displeased
and he told me:
my dear, fuck you.

All those silly articles in all those silly magazines targeted at women always tell you to just be yourself when you like somebody. Well first they say, “10 things to make him fall head over heels!” or “12 Steps to get the guy of your dreams to notice you!”. Almost always one (usually the last step) is be yourself. Now suppose being yourself goes against all the other steps. I always feel that being myself will probably result in a less than favorable conclusion. But then again if I were to put on a front just to get somebody to fall for me and then dropped it after we got together, I’d have been deceptive and that’s no way to build a serious relationship, which is what I want. I guess I’ll just have to follow rule number 10 and just be myself and hope for the best.

fawnsparrows:

You beckon me with the gentle thrust of your slender fingers, and engulfed in pride, I foolishly ignore your subtle motions. The intriguing shade of your eyes casts a shadow of doubt over me, and I am almost tempted to rethink my casual demeanor. There are no voids gaping in our chests,…

The Beatles - I Want You (She’s So Heavy) (by 0037LaCkEySpLuEy)

I want you, I want you soooo baaaaadddd, it’s driving me maaaaadddd :)

The certainty sometimes burns in my chest like a hot coal, smoldering smoke crawling up into my nostrils.

I can feel the fire eating me up inside.

Artist disguised Hunter

An artist disguised as a hunter took his place in the world of man. And although he tried to be fierce, his was quiet strength, like the heat in a boiling cup of tea. His fears led him to believe that his creativity would give him away. For the world of man did not accept the soft scratch of a pen on paper, or the light, loving stroke of a paintbrush. The artist sought to smother the sound of his deception beneath the laughter of associates and CEOs, for their approval would surely initiate his claim. The artist sealed his beautiful lips with shame so he could not sing and give himself away. Although every night he would sing like the nightingale into the dawn, his heart was always somber with the music he would swallow at dusk.

*This feels unfinished but I don’t know what else to do with it.

"I can’t forgive my lack of self control. I can’t resist the expression. It’s like a firefly that [has] foreseen its death. It just wants to shine the brightest it can on the last day.
It’s like two lovers who weren’t meant for each other, made love knowing it’ll be their last night.."

- James

This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve read in a long time.

elrune:

We both dreamt wildly of the kind of love that never made it out alive.
a love that is more of a creature rather than emotion; that grows within the pits of wombs and starts to eat you to your death. The kind of love that cannot fit in the human body but only in the vast extremity of the abstract…

I haven’t spoken to my little brother in so long what with everything that has happened with the surgery, my being ill and being so far away. I also feel like the last couple times we spoke on the phone he didn’t really want to speak to me. My mom called me today and said that sometimes she sees him crying himself to sleep and that he’s almost always angry and quiet. Growing up he had all of us in the house with him and now he’s alone. She says it’s hard for him. I can imagine. I feel so selfish and torn in two. If there is anybody in the world I love, it is with out a doubt my baby brother. I suppose he’s not a baby anymore because he’s fifteen and practically 6 feet but in my heart he will always be my baby brother. Every time I hug him I remember growing up with him. I used to call him “precious” because that was what he was. I remember holding him when he cried when the arguments between my parents would get loud and violent. I remember changing his diapers and reading him books in funny voices just to make him laugh. I remember making arts and crafts for school projects or just for fun on boring afternoons. I remember how distant I got the year I was with Tony and how much it hurt him. But I remember the first time I sat down with him and played a game of cards after Tony died and the look on his face was worth everything. I remember the letter he wrote me back in October when I first moved out. My baby brother has had to grow up so fast and it’s not fair. It’s not fair to any of us. To any of my siblings. And it’s killing me because I love him so much but I don’t know if I’m willing to sacrifice my freedom to show him that I care.