1. 2
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    (via bepoofy)

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    (Source: unamusedsloth, via iamwumbo)

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    "somewhere
    there is a women in China holding a black umbrella so she
    won’t taste the salt of the rain when the sky begins to weep,
    there is a 17 year old girl who smells like pomegranates and has summer air tight on her naked skin, wrapping around her scars
    like veins in a bloody garden, who won’t make it past tomorrow,
    there is a young man, who buys yellow flowers for the woman
    in apartment 84B, who learned braille when he realized she
    couldn’t read his poetry about her white neck and mint eyes
    there are people watching films,
    making love for the first time, opening mail with the
    heading of ‘i miss you’, cooking noodles with
    organic spices and red sauces, buying lemon detergent,
    ignoring ‘do not smoke’ signs, painting murals
    of his lips in abandoned warehouses, chewing
    the words ‘i love you’ over and over again, swallowing
    phone numbers and forgotten birthdays, eating
    strawberry pies, drinking white wine off of each
    others open mouths, ignoring the telephone,
    reading this poem
    somewhere
    someone is thinking
    i’m alone
    somewhere
    someone finally understands
    they never really
    were"

    - (via wwwsally)

    (Source: irynka, via brighteyesandsolocups)

  6. 48369
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    (via gbass)

  7. 16125
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  8. 530
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  9. 933
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    Oct
    neil-gaiman:

House
NEIL GAIMAN
illustration by ALLEN WILLIAMS

Presenting “House,” an original poem by Neil Gaiman in celebration of National Poetry Month on Tor.com, acquired for Tor.com by consulting editor Ellen Datlow.


“House”
Sometimes I think it’s like I live in a big giant head on a hilltopmade of papier mache, a big giant head of my own head.I polish the eyes which would be windows, ormow the lawn, I mean this is my house we’re talking about hereeven if it is a big giant papier mache head that looks just like mine.And people who go past in cars or buses or see the house the head on the hill from trains they think the house is me.I’ll be sleeping there, or polishing the eyes, or weeding the lawn, but no-one will see me, no-one would look. And no-one would ever come. And if I waved no-one even knows it was me waving.They’d all be looking in the wrong place, at the head on the hill.
I can see your house from here.



http://www.tor.com/stories/2013/04/house-neil-gaiman

    neil-gaiman:

    House

    illustration by ALLEN WILLIAMS

    Presenting “House,” an original poem by Neil Gaiman in celebration of National Poetry Month on Tor.com, acquired for Tor.com by consulting editor Ellen Datlow.

    “House”

    Sometimes I think it’s like I live in a big giant head on a hilltop
    made of papier mache, a big giant head of my own head.
    I polish the eyes which would be windows, or
    mow the lawn, I mean this is my house we’re talking about here
    even if it is a big giant papier mache head that looks just like mine.
    And people who go past 
    in cars or buses or see the house the head on the hill from trains 
    they think the house is me.
    I’ll be sleeping there, or polishing the eyes, or weeding the lawn, 
    but no-one will see me, no-one would look. 
    And no-one would ever come. And if I waved no-one even knows it was me waving.
    They’d all be looking in the wrong place, at the head on the hill.

    I can see your house from here.

    http://www.tor.com/stories/2013/04/house-neil-gaiman

  10. 402439
    17
    Oct
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