Memories of the forgotten

shouldertappingghosts:

If I was a famous author I would publish a book with ten different endings which all went to print with varying degrees of rarity, but not tell the fans about it so that I could watch their confusion as they disagree over how the story ended. Then when they figured it out I would ‘come clean’, telling them that I had released eleven alternate endings and watch them panic again as they all try to find the last ending.

This is perfect.

(via sweetspeas)

129,442 notes

656

missrep:

“Women have always fought. Shaka Zulu had an all-female force of fighters. Women have been part of every resistance movement. Women dressed as men and went to war, went to sea, and participated actively in combat for as long as there have been people.”
From: We Have Always Fought’: Challenging the ‘Women, Cattle and Slaves’ Narrative” by Kameron Hurley

The gods envy us. They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again. - Homer, The Iliad (via youlooklikesomethingblooming)
(Source: happyfacesmileyperson, via eeeverythinghappensforareason)
4,965 notes

Return to roots

The Forest calls but I’m not Forrest.
Elastic strands rooted in the Pacific
snap me back the moment I start to run.
The ground grapples at my feet like iron claws to root me to the past.
But some seed which falls on fertile soil cannot grow
with demented weeds hoarding sunlight.
Gusts of wind bear no answers to breathless questions
and interrogation is wasted on the already tortured air.
Hands search and grasp but just end up choking
the invisible neck of nothing, nobody, no one is here.
Mind drifts but body stays.
Motion ignores the myopic mitotic neurotic pull.
My gaze collects mountain range after mountain range, but maybe more than terrain divides us.
Maybe angels dictate this kinetic separation…
But only time and God know the cause.

1 note

160995

Loneliness is the human condition.

I know this because our bodies are never prepared
for touch.
I reach over to you and static sparks between us
like a match, a quick pang that leaves a resonance
in the finger tips.

We still jump when people tap us on the shoulder.
Still shudder when lover’s comb their fingers through our hair
and recoil from violent hands that threaten to impact us.
We can never plan how certain touches
will feel.

How fresh shells of snake skin feel under foot.
How beautiful it must be to understand Braille
as a native language, small bumps translating to a
mountain under finger tips.

I never planned for this, to decipher myself into isolation.
It is difficult to conjure the nerve to touch your face
when there were so many nights
with only my heart beat for company.

- atomiclanterns, “Loneliness is the Human Condition” (via atomiclanterns)
(via beautyprovedthemwrong)
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