heroin heartbreaks

gurhl:

right under this

arch of bone

theres a little tiny daydream

singing to me from the backseat.

with my back against

the golden concrete,

the under-colour of my eyelids

turns the sun into this

sleepy glowing cinema

where:

i’m two-step waltzing with you

by the tangerine lampstand

which makes the room sweet.

when we’re tired,

i’m kissing you ear to ear

and i turn that lampstand off.

by now — though — the sun is shining

from the 

inside

and it’s in this way that we keep

the light in

(via alonesomes)

There has to be something besides a temper tantrum beyond the initial anxiety or discomfort. I haven’t found it yet, but even if it’s just the total snap into not caring, where the fuck is it?

There hasn’t been enough writing, and I guess I was trying to find a voice in something else but now I can’t put anything together. I can’t sit down and scribble page after page like I used to, I think the word bank might have been limited from the start.