Even in solitude
You have a thousand friends
They live between the pages of your books
The frames of your films
And the notes of your songs
No one’s as pure as their art
People are art diluted
There is comfort in being alone
And you are brave, brave, brave
Find art that makes you die inside
It’s the fastest way to feel alive
Benedict Smith (via lionthing)
So absolutely beautiful. (via rentwithwords)
I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell/The Drunken Boat (via quotes-shape-us)
let it go – the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise – let it go it
was sworn to
let them go – the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers – you must let them go they
let all go – the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things – let all go
so comes love
e.e cummings - ‘let it go’ (via aulacrimosa)
Words bother me. I think it is why I am a poet. I keep trying to force myself to speak of the things that remain mute inside. My poems only come when I have almost lost the ability to utter a word. To speak, in a way, of the unspeakable. To make an object out of the chaos…To say what? a final cry into the void.
Anne Sexton, from a letter to Dennis Farrell, August 2, 1963 (via aulacrimosa)
(Source: litverve, via aulacrimosa)
Listen to me, you can’t fix people.
Your love won’t make him stop hating his father
and your devotion won’t cure her of her childhood.
All you can do is be there, violets sprouting out
from your ribs, acceptance on your lips, your own
wounds still bleeding and all you can do is be there
and sometimes that’s enough, sometimes that’s everything.
with the shame
of not belonging.
But nobody knows that.
Warsan Shire, “Seven Lines” (via larmoyante)
Always learn poems by heart", she said. "They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they’ll make your soul imprevious to the World’s soft decay.
White Oleander (via sushi-doll)