Here’s what our parents never taught us:

You will stay up on your rooftop until sunlight peels away the husk of the moon,
chainsmoking cigarettes and reading Baudelaire, and
you will learn that you only ever want to fall in love with someone
who will stay up to watch the sun rise with you.

You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will
realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.

A woman will kiss you and you’ll think her lips are two petals
rubbing against your mouth.

You will not tell anyone that you liked it.
It’s okay.
It is beautiful to love humans in a world where love is a metaphor for lust.

You can leave if you want, with only your skin as a carry-on.

All you need is a twenty in your pocket and a bus ticket.
All you need is someone on the other end of the map, thinking about the supple
curves of your body, to guide you to a home that stretches out for miles
and miles on end.

You will lie to everyone you love.
They will love you anyways.

One day you’ll wake up and realize that you are too big for your own skin.

Don’t be afraid.

Your body is a house where the shutters blow in and out
against the windowpane.

You are a hurricane-prone area.
The glass will break through often.

But it’s okay. I promise.

a stranger once told you that the breeze
here is something worth writing poems about.

— “Here’s What Our Parents Never Taught Us,” Shinji Moon (via commovente)

Rip tear gnash

crunch crash crack snap

pummel punch scratch scrape

chomp bite rend kick

bend break fuck rape

stab shoot eviscerate

where are the words

where are the words

where are the words

they are crammed

stuck stopped rammed

jilted jolted jacked

stalled stacked sticking

to the rims of my brain

they can’t fall out of my head

and onto a page

but maybe they aren’t there maybe they’re

forgotten lost misplaced mislaid

vanished vamoosed decamped

if I use the synonym tool on word

am I writing or am I lying

lifting hijacking stealing

robbing ripping

tearing stacking crashing


5 books i simply adore  the harry potter series by j.k. rowling

"Alas, what darkened minds have soothsayers!
What good are shrines and vows to maddened lovers?
The inward fire eats the soft marrow away,
and the internal wound bleeds on in silence."
— Virgil, The Aeneid


Books that own my soulThe Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

And we shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I suppose it’s often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually – their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t.