Taking Photos Whenever You Go Out, Is My Thing

A Star’s Death

the death of a star is called supernova and i feel that its poetic, how beautiful he bursts his guts out

poem: learning to listen to your voice

i have not been writing much lately,

for i feel i do not possess the “right” words to say,

and i have been tossing more poems

than i have been finishing—

i am learning that

sometimes not saying anything

is better than saying something

empty—

so i have spent nights sitting,

paying attention to the silence

despite the hundreds of distractions

begging to break the stillness

on account of their desire to be

constantly moving—

yet, i do not want to be the one always speaking,

acting as if i deserve that kind of authority,

just because i want so desperately to avoid

doing nothing—

i have not been writing much lately,

but i am not doing nothing;

in fact,

i am finally learning to listen.

-j.g. edge

loggin back on here, feels like picking up that half read book and continuing with the story line

sometimes you gotta art yourself beacuse nobody else does :)

Tumblr is the safest place to post rants and whinings cause zero acquaintance, zero expectation. Actually, it's not about 'expectations' but more about 'vulnerability'

a summer like call me by your name >>

romance? like in those hozier songs? you know that’s not real, right?

So,

This is based around 19th century,

Im a just a son of this well known, rich person. And i go to a ball with couple of my companions (like Pride and Prejudice).

So i was standing beside the dancing area...

I saw, this really astonishing, most wonderfull, beautiful lady i saw (even in IRL). Presumably i was handsome, i invited this lady for a dance. (Why not?) And after that i didnt even know when 2 hours passed, dancing with her. She has these really deep brown eyes, sparkling with lights of candles and all the lights around us. the dress, blue like ocean or a sky. Her hair, mud-colored and her fragrance, all these things to die for. We kept dancing & dancing i was with her and she was with me, but i was mostly in her eyes, browsing through her emotions like, pain, sorrow, oppression and repayment. But i ignored them and kept dancing. i was also ignoring the faded view of surrounding at that time i can only see us, only us. I thought the red stains her blue oceanic dress was just a mere mirage. As i kept dancing she too seemed like she was fading and i was struggling to clinge to her last reflection. I closed my eyes, thinking that its just an illusion, hoping that everything will become back as while i was in her eyes. I opened my eyes but all i could see was that bright, effervescent chandelier, just like her earrings

and water them everyday ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

I’ll make flowers grow in the saddest part of you.