Choir Of Mice

If we listen with not only our ears, but with our souls and our minds, then we shall discover the truth of the notes that touch us.

euxinus:

John

euxinus:

John

thecoolsumist:

Andy Warhol Polaroids

(via euxinus)

Trapeze

nectar-traps:

It was March and you had declared
your sadness a national holiday.

I remember bed sheets wilting
in every room: entire carnations of linen
like confetti on the floor, scattered

from a sleep you said you loved,
then left at the altar every morning.

You were the evening’s…

(Source: herkenrath, via euxinus)

(Source: salsmineo, via gummgarland)

Back home, the girls are not soft —
they pit peaches with their teeth,
drink sadness like they’re starving.

They always dance alone,
listen to songs with lyrics
about strawberry wine.

They blossom like beer bottles,
wear october on their shins,
split open, screaming —

a foreign rose
just aching
for a fight.

—   The Girls Back Home | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

(via thepoetryfarm)

Billie Holiday photographed by William P. Gottlieb for Down Beat Magazine, c. 1946

(Source: salsmineo, via vintagegal)

“Today you are wearing a dress that shows your knees and I want to apologize to your knees for all the grovelling other people have made them do. I want to say, ‘I’m sorry, knees, I’m sorry they made you kneel at their feet and make excuses for the body you belong to.’ You do not have to make excuses. Your body is a surprise party that made me trap my hand in the doorframe. Your body made me spit up all my beer. Your body made me stupid. It’s just so… unexpected. Your body: a curve in the road that leads a person to their destiny. Please don’t ever get down on your knees again. Please don’t ask them to love you. Love is not something you ask for. Help getting the spices down from the top shelf is something you ask for. Extra cheese on your cheesy fries is something you ask for. More time is something you ask for. Love is something that is given. A non-returnable gift at the surprise party of your body. I laid it on the table of your heart. The surprise party is for me, but I got something for you for being such a good host. Here, I got you this love swelling into something almost worrying. No take backs. Here, this is for you. This is for being so… unexpected. Don’t ever fall to your knees again. Don’t ever kiss someone’s feet for a fraction of their affection. Don’t ever bow your head to someone willing to cut it off. Wear dresses every day. I love your knees. I love the body they belong to. ‘Surprise!’ and all the lights go on. ‘Surprise!’ and my mouth falls open.”

—   Donna-Marie Riley (via five—a—day)

(via deeplystained)

http://dolorimeter.tumblr.com/post/91312613654

nicolesteinberg:

At first, heartbreak made me beautiful.
My skin fluoresced. I hypnotized trees.
The orphans followed me around town,
drunk on my pain. I ate only my own
hunger, gave off a scent like bitter oranges
or chlorine. Loss left me strangely whole,
as if my sadness, were it…