"A quel tempo danzavano per le strade come pazzi, e io li seguivo a fatica come ho fatto tutta la vita con le persone che mi interessano, perchè le uniche persone che esistono per me sono i pazzi, i pazzi di voglia di vivere, di parole, di salvezza, i pazzi del tutto e subito, quelli che non sbadigliano mai e non dicono mai banalità ma bruciano, bruciano, bruciano come favolosi fuochi d’artificio gialli che esplodono simili a ragni sopra le stelle e nel mezzo si vede scoppiare la luce azzurra."

Valentina, 18, Italia.

it's raining, it's pouring, Sherlock is boring.
i'm laughing, i'm crying, Sherlock is dying.
"How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.”
— David Foster Wallace, The Pale King (via fourteendrawings)

del piacere che ho provato
a stare (ieri) assieme a (voi)
col futuro che non c’è

TARMAPRILE1994 - Rosà (VI) Vinile, 16/4/14

Un vero amico è quello che ‘volevo l’abbraccio, non ci vedremo per una settimana’ ‘tra un’ora sono lì’

Track: Grow Up With Me (Poem)

Artist: Keaton Henson

Album:

Plays: 3,007

"Parti da chi sei, da ciò che gli altri non vedono.
Hai sempre te stessa, hai sempre le tue mani per sorreggerti.
Sei una tua vecchia compagnia, continua a dire al mondo che tu salti più in alto di loro, che il volume della tua voce sovrasterà le loro, sei tutto quello che basta.
Parti da te e renditi speciale, allarga le braccia, senza una piega, vedrai da lontano tutto ciò che diventerai, il cielo non cascherà.
E non lasciarti a nessuno, non lasciarti fermare, dai forma al tuo mondo con i sogni.”
— Alice Giaquinta (via comefiorialvento)
"A dying friend once told me, ‘I wish I hadn’t spent so many Mondays wishing it were Friday. I also wish I had made better use of those Fridays, for better stories on Monday.’
— A Wolf’s Thoughts (via rawkiss)

non dirmi
di respirare perché
da una vita
voglio soffocare
i miei pensieri
distruggerli
farli tacere
ma respirano
e mi tolgono
il fiato
più provo
a vivere
più si stringono
attorno al mio collo

"He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”
— Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina  (via arricciareilnaso)
"He gave up on me too.”
— six word story (via bizzlechangeme)
"

the problem poets have is that we really just want to live
inside a poem.

we want our lives to be like the ink on pages, we want
bruises on our kneecaps and kisses on our foreheads
so we can have love and pain in equal measures

and i want to wake up with you making
pancakes in my kitchen, i want
your bags packed and your hands full
with two plane tickets, i want you to say
“i’m coming with you, we’re going on an adventure”
i want you to be as wild and full of romance as i write you

but you’re a human being and today i woke up alone
and after awhile got a text from you asking if i
needed a ride to the airport. there were no flowers
when you came for me, no interfering with the intercom
so you could read me a dumb sonnet you wrote last night
while drunk. there was only the sound of flights taking off
and lovers kissing each other over and over
until it’s kind of awkward
because the goodbye seems to stretch out over forever
and there was no teddy bear no promise ring no big send off
you just promised to call and gave me a hug, see

the problem with being a poet
is that you get all sorts of wrong ideas
about what it means to be
in love
because you can hear music in what sounds like noise
to other people, you crave the kind of flashbang that
your words can create, you romanticize the ugly because it
makes for good writing and you drain the beautiful until
it comes undone, you forget other people need space to breathe,
that you live in the captured moment of too-perfect
impossibility, you forget that he can’t read your mind, that
she doesn’t really like your writing, that they would rather
watch sports than go out tonight, you forget that
most people don’t try to make fireworks out of
everyday life but

eventually, after writing more pages about magic
than kisses you’ve received

you mess up and
actually start to believe.

I am leaving for Europe and all I can think about is how badly I want you to come with me.” /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

Track: The Draw

Artist: Bastille

Album: All This Bad Blood

Plays: 197

weekendplaylist:

the draw // bastille

'look at the wonderful mess that we made'.
Bastille, Assago, 22 Marzo 2014.
Libertà.

©