The injury of words.

i won’t blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.

—Charles Bukowski - Raw With Love

Birds scream at the top of their lungs in horrified hellish rage every morning at daybreak to warn us all of the truth, but sadly we don’t speak bird.

—Kurt Cobain, Journals (via holliann)

(Source: frenchtwist, via holliann)

Strangers kiss softly as moths.

He undreams himself, remembers she has left him.

—Michael Ondaatje - In the Skin of a Lion

-But I like the inconveniences.

-We don’t, said the Controller. We prefer to do things comfortably.

-But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.

—

Brave New World - Aldous Huxley