I am not sure which is more disturbing,
The leaching onto my most precious possession
Or the audacity to pretend
What makes the dirty
On the rind of things
Just at the lip of sweet
And the last breath of bitter
We curl the sand beneath our toes
Laugh as the water quickly washes
Away what was once thought so secure
In our grasp.
The nectar of the sky,
It is powerful like this,
Swift and humiliating
We laugh because we don’t know what else to do.
We don’t try because we know we can’t.
And this is just how it is.
I inhale so deeply
My lungs cough
The last of your name
Out of me.
Instead I choke
And swallow you
I kissed the lip of the wine bottle,
It reminded me of a woman I knew.
It was bitter.
I went to spit it out
But no use in wasting a good drunk
Or good pussy
Or a warm body
When the brew isn’t enough
When the blankets aren’t enough,
When everything seems to fail us…
When we seem to fail ourselves
Good pussy, hank
No matter how bitter she is
Will always suffice…
Well, when there is nothing to drink
But our own lies…
That’s a conversation for another day.
I’ve missed you
I tried to build houses
- Anaïs Nin (via aestheticintrovert)
..and she casts poems to the wind
As we do stones at the sea.
She believes in them
as we do our wishes.
Unknown (via dishevelment)
The most perfect conclusion about how “virginity” came to be I’ve ever encountered.
i m p o r t a n t
- Charles Bukowski, Women (via aestheticintrovert)
- Michael Adzema (via aestheticintrovert)
- Arab proverb (via meijuemilia)