Actions

I’m procrastinating
on homework that was
due last week
and
Chopin
refuses
to speak to me.

I’m thinking
about you
and how I’m still
procrastinating

You’re sneaking
into my thoughts
which you ought to know
is quite rude. How
dare you distract me

with the memories
of you voice,
your eyes,
though it’s ultimately
my choice. I
suppose I should try
to finish.

It’s just math.
But I
can only think
of our
chemistry.


I swear that when our lips touch, I can taste the next 60 years of my life.
Rudy Francisco, Love Poem (via mangledsmile)

(via amor-exitium)


my sadness is not
a cut for you to bandage
and it is not
a bruise for you to kiss

i am not waiting
for you to save me
i am hoping you will love me
while i rescue myself
this is what a hero looks like (w.k.)

(via amor-exitium)


paperback people

docmarek:

she reads paperbacks
in the evenings
on her back porch
with her dog
lying next to
her rocking
chair

& she becomes a
character,
herself

until suddenly she hears
the timer go off
on the stove
& she realizes that
paperback
people are her
closest friends.

(via docmarek)


The trees of my childhood
are not the trees of your
childhood.

Let me tell you about my
cedars; my forsythias
and honeysuckles;
the way I used to plant
cherry pits in the front lawn
because I was greedy for their
blossoming.

Lift up my skirt and I’ll show you
where the blackberry brushes had
scratched me.

Lay me down in a hammock
hung between your childhood and the
man you have become today.

And we’ll kiss once, twice,
and a third time for luck

beneath the cherry blossom petals
that I had fallen asleep beneath
when I was too young to know anything
but innocence.

And the dark bark will be a darker midnight
against the spring it blossoms.

Skeletal. Moonless.
So heavy from the
rain.

And your hand will fold a flower
behind my ear.

And the petals will be
so extraordinarily
pale.

Shinji Moon, “Cherry Blossoms” (via oofpoetry)

(via commovente)



Good Intentions

Good Intentions


onthefritz007:

I close my eyes
and feel my way
to your rhyme

— your poetry
climbing up
my trembling spine

the vibe of your verse
is unrehearsed
and raw

revealing every one
of your glorious
flaws

my fingertips graze
syllabic parts
of your sum

I’m hopelessly
intoxicated
by your lyrical tongue

(via onthefritz007)


Drew this a while ago while in the car on the way from New Jersey. I should get back into drawing. But art is difficult and effort.

Drew this a while ago while in the car on the way from New Jersey. I should get back into drawing. But art is difficult and effort.