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On the move

perhaps and always
sometimes so many moons crawl into your lap
asking for a slice of broken time you left behind
but they are stuck in a maze
pouty faced and tired toes.
we dont snuggle.
we sleep on our left, we wake up and just keep running…

Of love and grenades - 1

My life is a train of occasions I never attended.

I never dismantled an explosive ticking to its final fury
I never shot a sad buck and tore apart its bleeding heart in my palms to check if there are stains of broken love smeared in it
I never served in nazi Germany kicking and pushing helpless people into over crowded gas chambers or nor did I accepted my sordid fate and was shoved into the chamber to see the rage of light slowly die.
I have never done that!

But I hv looked into your eyes
And asked you of Love
And that felt like kind of a same thing…


We pass our days with
Empty stomachs and wild hearts
Hungry for something more,

More than the paper and waste;
Lust for life in technicolour
Biting at the bit between our

Fanged teeth, lips dripping with
The elixir we sucked from the
Dying corpse of the past

Running with abandoned violence
Between trees and car parks,
The grey monotony in which we were bred

And if we scream, don’t listen
And if we cry, ignore us
For the sounds we wrench from our throats

Are a feeble replacement, a weak ghost
Of the voice that was stolen from us
So many moons ago.


- (via paralian)


To all you readers, writers, poets, whatever bookish words you call yourselves! Please reblog this so I know you’re out there! I wanna follow more of you.

(Source: letterstoleila)


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night (via marsza)

I first heard this poem when I read the Matched Trilogy.

(via karibeari74)

(via karibeari74)

The silence between us feels the space

I wish my thoughts get enough strength

To reach out and gently touch yours… 

" We are in hell because
We locked our hearts
In boxes
And shipped them to
Each other’s houses
After we threw away
The key.
I hope you are storing mine
In the space above your bed
So you can feel it’s heartbeat
Still lulling you
To sleep.
As we search for other friendships
With other people
To distract us
And to quell our loneliness
Know that I will get a duplicate
Key made, if you need
Your heart back. I will wrap
It well, mark it fragile, and
Attach sufficient postage.
Let me know when you
Need it. Until then,
It still decorates
My bedroom perfectly. "

- "Imprisoned" by Radha Kistler {} (via floatinginthethoughtstreams)

(via amaryllls)

" She doesn’t feel the same!!
She don’t even picks up the call…
Why should I be the one to take it all? "


" Sometimes goodbye is a thunderstorm. Sometimes goodbye is soft rain. "


— Rae (rae-writes), Ten Word Story #9 (via rae-writes)

it mostly an eartquake …

" Lets begin at the beginning
We aren’t through "



it’s been raining for seven months
and all the ink falling on the pavement
is not spilling on my page

it’s been raining for seven months
and the noise prevents me from sleeping at night
(I can’t sleep with you anyway)

it’s been raining for seven months
and silence progressively fills my veins
and every atom in my body

it’s been raining for seven months
and the trees have never look so grey
(days without you taste like ashes)

it’s been raining for seven months
and all the words banging against my brain
can’t cross my gates-lips

it’s been raining for seven months
and coldness has infiltrated my bones
(I miss your summer heart)


- (via commeunpeudesoleil)


" Flowers are such magnificent creatures, they must talk to each other when left alone after the shower in a garden bed or in moonlit night "


A love note regarding July rain

All past broken pieces and loose ends
All my lost promises and unsaid pain
I let them sail away with drifted clouds
Hope they will pour you on me like July rain…

Night rain

while the city sleeps. Lonely halogens stand guard to the sprinkling mischievous droplets, even the heavy rain falls under a spell of whisper. I was walking… In the rain, With the rain… Water was flowing in a crisscrossing pattern downhill and rain was softly chirping over the synthetics of my umbrella like telling me a story with endless patience. It was something entirely different from what we conceive as rain in daytime…