this gives me chills like incredibly horrible terrible chills oh my god
"The Universe is under no obligation to make sense to you" - Neil deGrasse Tyson (via heylauren)

(Source: liamnicholson)

241412 notes / 1 week ago / reblog


I will never forget you. Your nakedness
haunts me in the dawn when I can not distinguish your
flushed brown skin from the burning horizon, or my hands.
The smell of chaos lingers in the clothes
you left behind. I hold you

Joy Harjo, section 9 of “Songs from the House of Death, or How to Make It Through to the End of a Relationship,” The American Poetry Review (vol. 28, no. 3, May/June 1999)

(Source: apoetreflects)

471 notes / 1 week ago / reblog

My mother tells me
that when I meet someone I like,
I have to ask them three questions:

1. what are you afraid of?
2. do you like dogs?
3. what do you do when it rains?

of those three, she says the first one is the most important.
“They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”

I met you on a Sunday, right
after church.
one look and my heart fell into
my stomach like a trap door.

on our second date,
I asked you what you were afraid of.
“spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.”
I asked you if you liked dogs.
“I have three.”
I asked you what you do when it rains.
“sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.”

he smiled like he knew.
like his mom told him the same
“how about you?”

I’m scared of everything.
of the hole in the o-zone layer,
of the lady next door who never
smiles at her dog,
and especially of all the secrets
the government must be breaking
it’s back trying to keep from us.
I love dogs so much, you have no idea.
I sleep when it rains.
I want to tell everyone I love them.
I want to find every stray animal and bring them home.
I want to wake up in your hair
and make you shitty coffee
and kiss your neck
and draw silly stick figures of us.
I never want to ask anyone else
these questions
ever again.

- three questions - Caitlyn Siehl  (via kiddings)

(Source: alonesomes)

242445 notes / 1 week ago / reblog

Scheherazade by Ferenc Helbing, 1914
"I know
you and I
are not about poems or
other sentimental bullshit
but I have to tell you
even the way
you drink your coffee
knocks me the fuck out."
- (via shutdownthecity)

clementine von radics

(via porn4smartgirls)

(Source: clementinevonradics)

170108 notes / 1 week ago / reblog

This is the chemical formula for love:

dopamine, seratonin, oxytocin.

It can be easily manufactured in a lab, but overdosing on any of them can cause schizophrenia, extreme paranoia, and insanity.

Let that sink in.

- (via mrzim)

(Source: misschelly19)

108191 notes / 1 week ago / reblog
"There was something in my bones that told me to love you." - jenn satsune (via ohsatsune)
10853 notes / 2 weeks ago / reblog
188008 notes
"That’s how you know you love someone, I guess. When you can’t experience anything without wishing the other person were there to see it, too." - Kaui Hart Hemmings (via silentious)

(Source: larmoyante)

50735 notes / 2 weeks ago / reblog

today was my last day in my creative writing class and my teacher gave everybody a piece of paper to write down a contract and to put it in our wallets. she said she did the same thing when she was younger and every now and then she’d brush by it and remember that she wanted to write. everybody took time to write out what they wanted and I just sat at the back of the class, sitting on the windowsill and I knew there was only one thing to write but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. at the end of the class after everybody left, I went to thank her for the year, and she told me that people should be reading my words for a long time, but they won’t be able to do that if I’m not around to write them. I showed her the blank piece of paper, and she said it was okay not to write anything, and then I wrote this. I learned the power of words in that class, I learned it was okay to vomit up half a dozen notebooks stained with blood and exploded pens because it means you have something to say.