The only way to explain him is to preach about the devil.
The only way to explain him is to preach about the devil.
| Person: | What if you woke up in the body of someone on death row and today was the day of your execution? |
| Me: | My eyes would be happy to open. |
— Charles Bukowski (via floridabred)
(Source: dirrtyfilthynasty, via hazysouls)
He was in love with The Catcher In the Rye, mostly because the main character was as identifiably lonely as he. He found company in the pages, but not enough it seemed. At times I wondered if he could be as in love with me as he was with the bad in this world and that book.
I wake up with this tree growing inside of me, rooted from an empty pit you left in my stomach so long ago.
I’d like to throw myself off a two story building before waiting to be saved from it.
To be beautiful instead of objectified would be a wonderful way to love.
I leave my thoughts for the sky to engage in.
I’m not easy to connect with; so if you, by some miracle, have with me, I’m not going to let you disconnect that easily either.
Why I’m still here, I’ll never know.