(Source: nxte)

(Source: lemondropsonice)

If I had a soul I sold it for pretty words.

this-is-so-xv-century:

Bob Dylan e Allen Ginsberg -1976,  reading poems in front of Jack Kerouac’s grave

Palace

You were simpler,
you were lighter when we thought like little kids.
Like a weightless, hate-less animal,
beautifully oblivious before you were hid inside a stranger you grew into,
as you learned to disconnect.

Now he hangs your mirrors separately,
so one can’t show you what the other reflects.

When he heard I was on his tail, he emptied your account and hid a part of you that’s so invaluable
(the part of you unsellable at any amount).
He left the tallest peak of your paradise
buried in the bottom of a canyon in hell,

but I swear I’ll find your light in the middle,
where there’s so little late at night, down in the pit of the well.

Then when heaven has a line around the corner,
we shouldn’t have to wait around and hope to get in
if we can carpenter a home in our heart right now
and carve a palace from within.

We won’t need to take a ton of pictures,
It won’t be easy to believe
the day we wake inside a secret place that everyone can see. 

Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturn’d love, But now I think there is no unreturn’d love, the pay is certain one way or another (I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return’d, Yet out of that I have written these songs).

Johan Willner

(Source: likeafieldmouse)

Felicia Day appreciation posts → [13/25]

(Source: praytocass)

HP