and I was just a boy who loved the waves
but was completely terrified to swim.
written by Christopher Poindexter (via rauchwolken)
oh my god i’m fucking sick of this generation’s mentality that your sadness is beautiful and somebody will fix you and all this fucking john green shit nobody will find you in a bookstore reading bukowski and want to lie with you and nobody will kiss your scars and you will not be like effie and freddie you’ve got to be your own fucking hero and surround yourself with positivity
She took his hand
so he brought her to his country:
‘See it is dry’: and
it was a light field, water,
a tree loud as water
in that wind.
— In your country
there is a light field, water.
Your body is in this wind,
I am in your mouth, your hand.
The angels we made in the snow
are blown and the shapes at the snow’s edge
are only themselves again
and we our taller selves
smoke between the house and the woods’ edge,
dying to come in or have snow:
— Does he love her? She loves,
he loves, everyone here loves longing.
written by "The Summer House," Jean Valentine (via commovente)