1. 11:07 2nd Sep 2014

    Notes: 74958

    Reblogged from findingredemption

    My heart swings back and forth between the need for routine and the urge to run.
    — (note to self)

    (Source: c0ntemplations)

     
  2. 02:04

    Notes: 1

    I’d like paralysis of the heart
    I don’t want to feel anymore

     
  3. Learn to self motivate and find solace in loneliness; sometimes you’ll be all that keeps you alive.

     
  4. 04:57

    Notes: 1

    There is no comfort in silence.

     
  5. I doused my insides with booze
    But I still thought too much of you
    Then every purge from my gut
    Spewed you out like bits of debris
    And I got up the next morning
    Without a shred of remorse

     
  6. The heart wants to hold you captive; the heart wants to throb
    So I cut the blood vessels; I’m cold and I feel good as I ever will

     
  7. Open your eyes to the cold sweat again
    Glance at the clock with apprehension
    More time burnt out in your lonely den
    Sigh at the desires never to find fruition
    Hang your head like heavy shameful sin
    You dread owning the dismal disposition
    Fraught with the fancies you crave to win
    Bury yourself once more; fucking amen

     
  8. All the rapturous emotions have made me sick

     
  9. 16:01 11th Aug 2014

    Notes: 1

    too fucking depressed to do anything

     
  10. Destiny is a whore who persuades us into believing in predetermined paths
    You read into events like they were handed to you by God himself
    The death of another is your fortune; your failures were meant to be
    You guard what lies ahead from uncertainty, protecting it like fine china
    But your future is malleable like clay, thus your anxiety is damn absurd

    We are not the product of preordained prophecies spawned by intuition
    The self you’ve formed could have just as easily never been realized
    Your next 20 years can go in any direction, and none of them is fate
    Life is a game of chance with an incomprehensible number of outcomes
    Fuck what is “meant to be,” and chase the risks like you hunger for prey

     
  11. All of my words have been filtered out
    I am a sunken vessel with no treasures

     
  12. she’s a ravishing, towering, mountain top
    glazed in sheets of blinding white
    you’re a crushed up crystalline substance
    waiting to be snorted up by a junkie

    just what did you expect, boy?

    she’s the alluring pattern on the serpent’s skin
    an elegant design with colors so dazzling
    you’re the cicada’s discarded exoskeleton 
    fragmented by the summer’s children

    just who do you think you are, boy?

    she’s the glistening in your tired, sullen eyes
    her smile like an ocean sunset
    you’re the pesky itch on the back of her neck
    she scratches you bare and dry

    just lay your head down, boy
    she’s not yours to keep

     
  13. 23:41 20th Apr 2014

    Notes: 1

    Tags: writing

    life in a nutshell


    You get older
    you realize no one really knows what they’re doing
    things get weird
    and just about everyone loses their god-forsaken minds

     
  14. If you’re dirt, 
    you must have something going 
    beneath that surface of yours
    you’ve got to show some promise 
    and start budding before she leaves
    or you risk decaying to futile soil
    washing away with the heavy rains
    you could have danced in with her

     
  15. 00:32 19th Jan 2014

    Notes: 325

    Reblogged from henrycharlesbukowski

    You lose what individualism you have, if you have enough of course, you retain some of it, but most dont have enough, so they become watchers of game shows, y’know, things like that. Then you work the 8 hour job with almost a feeling of goodness, like you’re doing something, and you get married, like marriage is a victory and you have children like having children is a victory, but most things people do are a total grind, marriage, birth, children, it’s something they HAVE to do because they have nothing else to do. There is no glory in it, no esteem, no fire, their lives are flat and the earth is full of them. Sorry, but thats the way I see it. I could not accept the snail’s pace 8-5, Johnnie Carson, merry christmas, happy new year, to me it’s the sickest of all sick things.
    — 

    Charles Bukowski (via henrycharlesbukowski)

    This quote embodies the reason as to why I’m so determined to keep striving towards being more educated and to continue working towards a desirable future.

    I want to avoid the mundane, typical life. I want to be enlightened. I want to expand. 

    I do not want to become a victim of the thought, “If only I had done something about this sooner,” when its too late to go back on it. 

    Success isn’t finishing college, getting a career, marriage, children, etc.

    At some far off point in the future, I’ll probably be guilty of all of those.

    But to me, success is dying knowing I cured my boredom with a passion for something.