crooked neighbour

theartofanimation:

Kazu Kibuishi

33 minutes ago on August 29th | J | 6,628 notes
plays

34 minutes ago on August 29th | J | 28,565 notes
Tagged as: #YEAH 
Who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet’s heart when caught and tangled in a woman’s body?
Virginia Woolf, from A Room Of One’s Own (via violentwavesofemotion)
2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 825 notes

List Written by February and Carried in February’s Corduroy Coat Pocket

1. I am not a bad person. I have enjoyed June, July and August like everyone else.

2. I fed you dandelions and picked the stems from your teeth with my tongue

3. You smell of honey and smoke. that’s what I call you. Girl who smells of honey and smoke. But you’re more than that. You’re a field of dandelions.

4. I have this nightmare where I’m standing in the field of dandelions holding a scythe. The horizon is children marching. Each child holds one of your teeth.

5. I’m so confused it almost feels calm.

6. I am guilty of kidnapping children. I am guilty of Bianca and causing great pain to Thaddeus and Selah and the town.

7. I want to be a good person, but I’m not.

Light Boxes, Shane Jones (via littlebbmoon)
2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 31 notes
2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 63,340 notes
2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 18 notes
2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 7,478 notes
However much you feed a wolf, it always looks to the forest. We are all wolves of the dense forest of Eternity.
Marina Tsvetaeva (via libraryland)
2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 414 notes
Say that we are a puff of warm breath in a very cold universe. By this kind of reckoning we are either immeasurably insignificant or we are incalculably precious and interesting.
Marilynne Robinson, “Austerity as Ideology” (via shivierie)
2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 76 notes
Yet when we came back, late, from the hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land (via roomtemperaturedlovers)
2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 548 notes

tonight I:
hate the phrase “good girl”,
smell like perfume that I sprayed in a store,
am too sleepy to do late math,
finished my thesis,
am tired of feminism already,
hate boys,
hate 6 a.m.,
have cold chilly toes,
need to be snuggled,
feel physically ill because of a soul,
want doc martens.

2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 0 notes
Tagged as: #me 
default album art
Song: Anyone Else But You
Artist: The Moldy Peaches
Album: Juno OST
Played: 208,311 times.

The Moldy Peaches → Anyone Else But You

Here is the church and here is the steeple,
We sure are cute for two ugly people
I don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else but you

2 hours ago on August 28th | J | 54,718 notes
thrifters-bazaar:

Felt like doing a little Throwback Thursday to the good ol’ days of having an undercut and wearing my RayBans on the reg.

thrifters-bazaar:

Felt like doing a little Throwback Thursday to the good ol’ days of having an undercut and wearing my RayBans on the reg.

3 hours ago on August 28th | J | 5 notes

folieacollyn:

love is being able to find your way home in the dark

8 hours ago on August 28th | J | 6 notes
8 hours ago on August 28th | J | 66 notes
Tagged as: #eeeeee