Ask me anything  
wannabe poet,
junk jeweler,
thrifting extraordinaire,
amateur mycologist,
kitchen beautician,
shrub cuddler,
ferret momma

ohwelloneirataxia:

"COWBOY COFFEE" by Sarah Vandervennet via Electric Cereal

ohwelloneirataxia:

"COWBOY COFFEE" by Sarah Vandervennet via Electric Cereal

(via electric-cereal)

— 3 weeks ago with 15 notes
sorryexcuseforsorry:

YOU’RE HUNGRY BUT NOTHING SOUNDS CUTE

sorryexcuseforsorry:

YOU’RE HUNGRY BUT NOTHING SOUNDS CUTE

(via electric-cereal)

— 3 weeks ago with 176 notes
"Fuck countries. I hate all of them. You are the only country I want."
Benjamin Alire Sáenz 

(Source: 5000letters, via lifeinpoetry)

— 1 month ago with 455 notes
"More and more frequently
the edges
of me dissolve."
Margaret Atwood, “More and More.” 

(Source: literarymiscellany, via lifeinpoetry)

— 1 month ago with 1309 notes
"A poem has secrets that the poet knows nothing of."
— 1 month ago with 3776 notes
"The pallid woman with black hair
rose like a fish from the abyss,
and the two of them built a contraption,
armed to the teeth, against love."
Pablo Neruda (from sonnet LXXIII, Cien Sonetos de Amor)

(Source: scareomachia, via lifeinpoetry)

— 1 month ago with 630 notes
"Advertisement for the Mountain" - Christina Davis

There are two versions of every life.

In the first one, you get a mother, a father,
your very own room.

You learn to walk, which is only done by walking.
You learn the past tense of have, which is hunger.

You learn to ask almost anything
is to ask it to be over,
as when the lover asks the other

“Are you sleeping? Are you beginning
to go away?”

(And whether or not you learn it, life does not penetrate
more than five miles above the earth
or reach more than three miles beneath the sea.

Life is eight miles long.

You could walk it, and be there before sundown.
Or swim it, or fall it, or crawl it.)

The second is told from the point
of view of the sky.

(Source: missedstations)

— 1 month ago with 4 notes