literature and writers

Writers aren’t so special, I think. They listen more. They spend their lives looking for stories. They don’t wait for them.
—  That’s the difference
My love for you,
consumes me,
just like the sea,
devours the sun
at sunset,
I drown too deep
sinking endlessly,
never to be seen again

Heartfelt Notions

And that’s the thing,
They don’t fucking know.
And you can’t say anything because you sit and choke on your own tongue.
I’m haunted by versions of myself that have died everyday.
They ask “Are you alright?” but don’t want the answer “I’m not fucking okay

Ralph Waldo Emerson (May 25, 1803 – April 27, 1882) 

American essayist, lecturer, and poet who led the transcendentalist movement of the mid-19th century. He was seen as a champion of individualism and a prescient critic of the countervailing pressures of society, and he disseminated his thoughts through dozens of published essays and more than 1,500 public lectures across the United States. (Wikipedia)

From our stacks: Cover and excerpts from The Conduct of Life By Ralph Waldo Emerson. Author’s Edition. London: Smith, Elder, and Co., 1861. 

And it hurts so much to know that i never got a chance. I never got a chance to feel your touch or feel your lips against mine. I never got a chance to wake up next to you each morning. Or kiss you goodnight. I never got a chance to hold you. I never got a chance to see you smile when you talk about something you love or hear your voice when you say my name. I never got a chance to show you how much you mean to me or how much I adore you. I never got a chance to tell you that I love you…
Based On A True Story

With a mouth stitched shut,

And clipped off wings,

I came into this world,

A so-called unusual breed,

A pair of eyes that were the color of chestnuts,

Wanted me as a puppet on strings,

I enjoyed the odd sensation of being furled,

Until his strings made me bleed,

One piece at a time,

I gave this man my heart,

Reached in my chest every few days,

But suddenly all I could pull out were spider webs,

I reached into yours and it was filled with grime,

That’s when it all fell apart,

He looked at me constantly with an angry fixed gaze,

It got worse when I begged,

Sorrow got stuck in my ears,

Like a hauntingly beautiful song,

He gave a face to my fears,

And scars that will last lifelong,

Love isn’t just a word,

It’s an action too,

You may think the lines are blurred,

But I’d hate for this to happen to you.

~B                        (via-@confusedmermaid97)

And as the sky bled black and blue, I went inside thinking that maybe we match because I’m the skies before the storm and you’re every beautiful thing that follows the rain.
—  L.A.L. || Maybe We Match
I’m not afraid of you choosing someone else,
I’m afraid of being so heartbroken,
I’m afraid of starting over again.
I’m afraid of being in square one.
I’m just human,
What did you expect?
—  @lunadefierro
Theme; Serentiy

Tranquility in immortality,
Flesh rots and worms consume,
But life within the decomposing blooms
A tree forever full of leaves
A soul, though no longer wandering earth
Incased within bark.
Roots reaching deeper than any coffin—
Could ever dream, here’s where I lie
Equanimity in obliteration.


i cop a seated spot
across dark seeded hearts
with strings to spin their tops
that make their thorns pop out.

i am not the happy man
with the sunshine smiling on my back.
i’ve waited 20+ years
to hear the voice that left again.

you can’t laugh this off
like it’s a easygoing problem.
this is something that you should solve
before i tell you to get lost.

if you leave and burn the bridge
that doesn’t mean you try to rebuild it.

you can replace the pieces you crisp,
you can’t interchange what i gave.

why has my father forsaken my feelings.
why is it not so much of a question
but rather a message with no reason.


Sometimes I wish I could read your mind and see if you honestly are happy with me or if it’s all in my head.
—  Tenari Ioapo // Do i make you happy?