The Greatest Actor

I'm a poet. I'm a loner. I'm a social butterfly. I'm a beauty. I'm a reject. I'm anything you want me to be.

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I’m standing
against the wall

and there’s an
apple between
my teeth

you’re holding
a bow and arrow

aiming it straight for
my bulbous mouth

you aim
you fire
you miss
like a fool

as the blood runs,
as the fruit falls

because you never
the sport


I breathe in


to crickets chant
lustfully under
the voyeuristic Moon

Her mouth in the
shape of an O

as I reach


to touch Her
magnetic cheek

my hand cold
against a stranger

our heads

resting on pillows
as I watch a cloud

roll into black

as I
(a constellation)

turn away
from the evening


“Sweetheart, do not love too long:
I loved long and long,
And grew to be out of fashion
Like an old song.”

—   W.B. Yeats, from Collected Poems (via violentwavesofemotion)

(via amuffin)

I find you in every city


san francisco
reminds me
of being
tangled with you
in bed—
legs and arms like
meandering vines,
we folded into each other
like paper planes
the big, orange bridge:
sturdy and durable
the redwoods
centuries old
the sailboats
returning to…



(Source: communicants, via sequentem)


(Source: jamiefraser)

Next Time

next time

he will not

be someone who

sees me as a receding


on which he can

freely stretch across


as sand between his

weak palms, expected

to slip away with time


as the sun that

seasonally bronzes his skin

with hot kisses


as the perfect sunset

inspiring the poetry of his heart

to love

someone else


next time

he will be someone

who feels my cool water

against his parched lips

and knows

what it means

to live

“Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.”

—   Carol Rifka Brunt (via joyeuse)

Hate everyone.