bone blue

Read the Printed Word!

albarrancabrera:

Albarrán Cabrera
#212. Toned Silver Gelatin print. 

albarrancabrera:

Albarrán Cabrera

#212. Toned Silver Gelatin print. 

(via iamjapanese)

iamjapanese:

aurosanlo:

MARZIO TAMER
Vento d’ostro
Témpera

also

iamjapanese:

aurosanlo:

MARZIO TAMER

Vento d’ostro

Témpera

also

I save my screams for the desert. Where do I lay this great big heart?

“And make death proud to take us.”

—   Cleopatra, Anthony and Cleopatra - William Shakespeare (via words-and-coffee)

(via tothecatcher)


Artwork of Stefan Sagmeister.

Artwork of Stefan Sagmeister.

(Source: demonskin, via aestivalism)

Let us no longer wake up
sweating in a summer bed.

Let us never eat grapefruits
from each other’s laps.

Let us stray quickly
into this Garden of Sleeping Alone.
This Garden of Heartache has found itself
a labyrinth inside me.

Let this be easy.
Let this be the last time
my heart is wrong.

Let his hands not surrender
up my thighs. Let him not
unwrap me. Let him
not find in me a new body
again and again.


Let him not love me.
Let it not be so.

—   Prayer To The Saint Of Leaving, Sierra DeMulder (via grammatolatry)

“The night I lost you
someone pointed me towards
the Five Stages of Grief
Go that way, they said,
it’s easy, like learning to climb
stairs after the amputation.
And so I climbed.
Denial was first.
I sat down at breakfast
carefully setting the table
for two. I passed you the toast—-
you sat there. I passed
you the paper—-you hid
behind it.
Anger seemed so familiar.
I burned the toast, snatched
the paper and read the headlines myself.
But they mentioned your departure,
and so I moved on to
Bargaining. What could I exchange
for you? The silence
after storms? My typing fingers?
Before I could decide, Depression
came puffing up, a poor relation
its suitcase tied together
with string. In the suitcase
were bandages for the eyes
and bottles sleep. I slid
all the way down the stairs
feeling nothing.
And all the time Hope
flashed on and off
in detective neon.
Hope was a signpost pointing
straight in the air.
Hope was my uncle’s middle name,
he died of it.
After a year I am still climbing, though my feet slip
on your stone face.
The treeline
has long since disappeared;
green is a color
I have forgotten.
But now I see what I am climbing
towards: Acceptance
written in capital letters,
a special headline:
Acceptance
its name is in lights.
I struggle on,
waving and shouting.
Below, my whole life spreads its surf,
all the landscapes I’ve ever known
or dreamed of. Below
a fish jumps: the pulse
in your neck.
Acceptance. I finally
reach it.
But something is wrong.
Grief is a circular staircse.
I have lost you.”

—   Linda Pastan, The Five Stages of Grief (via fypoetry)

(via grammatolatry)

Warsan Shire - For Woman Who Are Difficult To Love

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?

closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do, love?
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love

(Source: yumegrrrrrl, via grammatolatry)

rudygodinez:

Rudy/Godinez, Black Hole # 11, (2014)

rudygodinez:

Rudy/Godinez, Black Hole # 11, (2014)

(via aestivalism)

elizwent:

Serge & Jane, the original Parisian lovers.

elizwent:

Serge & Jane, the original Parisian lovers.

(via tothecatcher)