moderateclimates:

I do not have anything to write anymore. Is it possible to be too sad to write?

celestial-princess:

I really wouldn’t mind getting

Smashed by a truck while driving.

It’s the only time when time itself

Is slowing down and disperses.

I wouldn’t have to worry about money

Or greed.

I wouldn’t have to worry about liars

Or cheats.

I wouldn’t have to worry about how fat I am.

Or if I’m pretty enough.

I wouldn’t have to worry if I’m smart enough.

Or cool enough.

Or do drugs enough.

I’ll just be taken to a paradise.

Where the waters clear blue.

And life is true.

(Source: paolacarmenatepoems.blogspot.com, via sheddinpetals)

thetargetbird:

brooklynpoets:

Every thing I have done seems to me blank and suspicious.—I doubt whether my greatest thoughts, as I supposed them, are not shallow—and people will most likely laugh at me.—My pride is impotent, my love gets no response.—the complacency of nature is hateful—I am filled with restlessness.—I am incomplete.—

—Whitman, discouraged by the reception to the 1st edition of Leaves of Grass

Man, Walt, you’re breaking my heart here…

(Source: brooklynpoets, via thetargetbird)