I’m not unwell, I just don’t understand myself, which makes it hard for me to feel well, or anything at all.

I am not unwell.

I did a cover of this beautiful Noah Gundersen song last night, just because I love it and it was cathartic and fun. 

One take, shot on iPhone4, beautiful song. Thank you Noah! :)

The call is loud and clear.
The tone, all too human.
My heart is supposed to break right now, but
There is some young hate, which holds.

Your struggle is all too public,
Too real, too familiar.
My heart is supposed to break right now, but
There is some young hate, which you bred.

I don’t know what I want, 
But it’s not you
Anymore.
I break for everything, every little thing,
But not for you
Anymore.

You will wear your mirror out.

You will break yourself in pieces 
When you still see yourself.

My heart is supposed to break right now
Any whole person’s would.
But mine’s already broken
And you’ve been washing your hands for months now.

I used to have more heart for you than anything else in the world.
I look at our old photos,
And try to remember that place.

5to1:

Aretha Franklin & a fuckin’ Rca mic

Erotic as all hell. The queen and one of the prettiest ribbons ever.

spokemnemosyne:

Call me, Ishmael.

I love wordplay. 

Procrastination.

How to Explain Pictures to a Dead Hare

– Beuys, 1965

Learning to type.

"There are always two deaths, the real one and the one people know about."
— Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea (via larmoyante)

You’ve got a permanent line
In your arm like an anchor, weighing down your mind
You can sink or swim, but please don’t drown this time.

You take blood transfusions,
From books and dead musicians
You sing ‘O positive’
But you’re far from positive.

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him… a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create — so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating."
Pearl S. Buck (via anonymousmentor)

man-and-camera:

Into the Abyss ➾ Luke Gram

We could have been together
But now we’re always separate
Like how two planets orbit
Never touching, but close enough to feel some warmth.

Four A.M. in the swimming pool,
And you pretended,
You knew how constellations move.

Before we drank our body’s worth,
You said you were scared to fly –
Said you were more of a river-guy.

We swam, off balance
Drowning together, in solid air –
You said you were scared to care.

Oh, but life is good sometimes.
And that song still reminds me
These rare events arrive when
You feel the most real,
And that everything else must be a dream.