laugh like you really mean it |
When I was little, I dreamt of swimming so deep in the Atlantic ocean that there was no up or down and the light came from all around me. If I could go back, I would stay there until I found the perfect seashell and then wake up in my bed and run out into the pouring rain. |
@NiallOfficial: Guess what Im doin today?
@NiallOfficial: absolutely nothing
(Source: diannagrons, via cuddlemnstr)
Ed Sheeran Alphabet → O for One Direction
(via jkrowlingismyreligion)
(Source: tonymystark, via idontevenwhat)
this is the first installment in a series i’m going to call ‘see josh i do have a life’ because my boyfriend seems to think i spend all my summer sleeping and reading. which i do, but i also do other things!
so. josh. you flew back to california for the summer today, and i immediately went out with my brothers to our friendly neighborhood spoonlickers. so there. i AM cool.
the cinnamon peeler’s wife: Song On The Subway
by Oscar Vuong
Rush-hour on the A rain. A blind man
staggers forth, his cane tapping lightly
own the aisle. He leans against the door,
raises a violin to chin, and says I’m sorry
to bother you, folks. But please. Just listen.
And it kills me, the word sorry. As if something like music
should be forgiven. He nuzzles into the wood like a lover,
inhales, and at the first slow stroke, the crescendo
seeps through our skin like warm water, we
who have nothing but destinations, who dream of light
but descend into the mouths of tunnels, searching.
Beads of sweat fall from his brow, making dark roses
on the instrument. His head swooning to each chord
exhaled through the hollow torso. The woman beside me
has put down her book, closed her eyes, the baby
has stopped crying, the cop has sat down, and I know
this train is too fast for dreaming, that these iron jaws
will always open to swallow a smile already lost.
How insufficient the memory, to fail before death.
how will hear these notes when the train slides
into the yard, the lights turned out, and the song
lingers with breaths rising from empty seats?
I know I am too human to praise what is fading.
But for now, I just want to listen as the train fills
completely with warm water, and we are all
swimming slowly toward the man with Mozart
flowing from his hands. I want nothing
but to put my fingers inside his mouth,
let that prayer hum through my veins.
I want crawl into the hole in his violin.
I want to sleep there
until my flesh
becomes music.
(Source: colporteur)
Gods, aliens, other dimensions… I’m just a man in a can.
(via flowerinyourextensions)
gratuitous picture of my face. no particular reason why.
don’t have a room for the summer… but i’m making the corner of the basement i do have as nice as i can!
(Source: mr-styles, via magneticpie)
(via otfivedirection)
(x)
(Source: mr-styles, via otfivedirection)
(Source: conorful, via louweetomlinson)
a year of college piled in the hallway. goodbye eldersveld 121! you’ve been good to me.
