Each morning in rebirth, each evening in exhausted madness where the blood thickens and the mantle of darkness diffuses the boundaries of time and persona.

I’ve put too much thought into prophecies and telepathy.
Now everything is merely an extension of your quickness.

  • Me:  Hey mom, wanna smoke a blunt?
  • Mom:  What?
  • Me:  What?

"Because nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff… Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it. Hank, when people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘you like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all. Like, you are just too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness."
John Green, VlogBrother. 
(via tobia)

(Source: the-exchange)

Люблю твои запутанные волосы
Давай, я позвоню тебе ещё раз, помолчим

Things keep washing up on my porch. I find rubber, bits of cardboard, brown bottles, tuna cans, plastic forks. The tide waters are already up to my knees and I can’t sleep well because the mattress is soaking through. There are snakes in the water that bite my ankles and make me euphoric. I see prismatic shapes and sometimes I go blind, and on occasion I hear them speak and understand their hushed whispering. I’m running low on band-aids to cover up the little holes in my skin. The snakes are starting to rhyme and sometimes, they read Rumi all night.