Nothing Too Complicated

Ask me anything   Submit   exhale twice as long as the inhale

vintagegalBrooklyn Gang by Bruce Davidson, 1959 (via)

— 19 hours ago with 2807 notes
The Ragged, Jagged End

She was furious - hair wild, tears falling down her face. She looked at him not looking her and half-yelled, “Jesus, it’s almost as if you were waiting for me to end it.” 

He stared off into the yard, arms crossed at his chest. When she had finished, he turned back to her, but said nothing. He pleaded with her in his mind, telling her how much he loved her, how things would be different - but nothing came out. 

Her eyes changed then. The fury left them, leaving behind a cold emptiness. 

"Oh my god," she said, flatly. "You were waiting for me to end it." 

— 1 week ago with 1 note
"… and love
love is mostly ill-advised but always brave."
Yrsa Daley-Ward, from “artichokes,” bone (via lifeinpoetry)
— 1 week ago with 259 notes
"I wish I could do whatever I liked behind the curtain of “madness”. Then: I’d arrange flowers, all day long, I’d paint; pain, love and tenderness, I would laugh as much as I feel like at the stupidity of others, and they would all say: “Poor thing, she’s crazy!” (Above all, I would laugh at my own stupidity.) I would build my world which while I lived, would be in agreement with all the worlds. The day, or the hour, or the minute that I lived would be mine and everyone else’s — my madness would not be an escape from “reality”."
— 4 weeks ago with 4203 notes
"Those of us who make up poems
Have agreed not to say what the pain is."
— 4 weeks ago with 671 notes
"You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened.
    Your co-workers ask
         if everything’s okay and you tell them
            you’re just tired.
    And you’re trying to smile. And they’re trying to smile."
Richard Siken, “Boot Theory” (via lifeinpoetry)
— 4 weeks ago with 400 notes
"deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
-time is a tree (this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough"
E.E. Cummings (via lifeinpoetry)
— 4 weeks ago with 131 notes
"So I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on the top of the beer can."
Sylvia Plath, 10 July 1952, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via lifeinpoetry)
— 4 weeks ago with 571 notes
On Hiding Your Tears

“Let us suppose that I have wept, on account of some incident of which the other has not even become aware (to weep is part of the normal activity of the amorous body), and that, so this cannot be seen, I put on dark glasses to mask my swollen eyes (a fine example of denial: to darken the sight in order not to be seen). The intention of this gesture is a calculated one: I want to keep the moral advantage of stoicism, of “dignity” (I take myself for Clotilde de Vaux), and at the same time, contradictorily, I want to provoke the tender question (”But what’s the matter with you?”); I want to be both pathetic and admirable, I want to be at the same time a child and an adult. Thereby I gamble, I take a risk: for it is always possible that the other will simply ask no question whatever about these unaccustomed glasses; that the other will see, in the fact, no sign.” 

― Roland BarthesA Lover’s Discourse: Fragments

— 4 weeks ago with 4 notes
#roland barthes 

Will I be something?
Am I something?

And the answer comes:
You already are.
You always were.
And you still have time to be.

Anis Mojgani, “Here I Am” (via contramonte)

(via lifeinpoetry)

— 1 month ago with 2068 notes
inneroptics: “Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.”
-Allen Ginsberg

inneroptics“Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.”

-Allen Ginsberg

(via fiore-rosso)

— 1 month ago with 311 notes