February 2012
124 posts
“I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be...”
– Sylvia Plath
Anonymous asked: what would you *like* to die of?
“You are a souvenir shop, where he goes
to remember how much people miss him...”
– from Unrequited Love Poem, Sierra DeMulder
1 tag
April 7, 1969
I feel so bad today that I want to write a poem. I don’t care: any poem, this poem.
- Richard Brautigan
Interviewer: Love or Friendship?
Casey Wescott: Any port in a storm.
2 tags
Passing to Where?
Sometimes I take out my passport, look at the photograph of myself (not very good, etc.) just to see if I exist
- Richard Brautigan
Anonymous asked: Do you ever feel mediocre, flat, boring, plain, uninteresting, not creative, ugly? What do you do then?
swanmaiden asked: What are your favourite things about the nighttime? x
Anonymous asked: I'm hurting because I'm too afraid to be consumed by love anymore.
forbidden-alleys asked: Dearest Eliza, how are you feeling in this late morning?
a horse with greenblue eyes what you see is what you see: madhouses are rarely on display. that we still walk about and scratch ourselves and light cigarettes is more the miracle than bathing beauties than roses and the moth. to sit in a small room and drink a can of beer and roll a cigarette while listening to Brahms on a small red radio is to have come back from a dozen wars alive listening to...
heartofmylife asked: you are the best ever. just saying c:
Breakfast
He poured the coffee Into the cup He poured the milk Into the cup of coffee He added the sugar To the coffee and milk He stirred it With a teaspoon He drank the coffee And put back the cup Without speaking to me He lit a cigarette He blew some rings With the smoke He flicked the ashes Into the ashtray Without speaking to me Without looking at me He got up He put his hat On his head He...
Anonymous asked: If you could ask the person you like one question what would it be?
sway with me, everything sad - madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure the sky; sway with me, sad things - fingers split on a forge old age like breakfast shell used books, used people used flowers, used love I need you I need you I need you: it has run away like a horse or a dog, dead or lost or unforgiving.
- Charles Bukowski
Anonymous asked: Your thoughts on Valentine's Day?
Anonymous asked: Dear Eliza, in your opinion why writers and artists have a heavier heart than most other people?