“He’s always there for me, even during tough times.”
“What’s one tough time he was there for you?”
“When our dad got diagnosed with brain cancer.”(San Francisco, CA)
Mama Lies a Lot - She Lies a Lot
At what point do you love your favorite artist too much?
When you start watching his home videos. : |
(Source: facebook.com)
apathetic-asshat asked: The Smiths: I Know It's Over, Brand New: Jesus Christ. Usually does the trick.
Oh damn, Jesus Christ is a great idea. You have a taste for the sad. I appreciate that.
You know that game…
…where you try to get to Hitler or something in Wikipedia in as few clicks as you can?
I’m trying to get to rock-bottom sad in as few songs as I can.
Basically what I hear whenever Joffrey’s on screen
“THIS IS WHY I AM ROYAL AND YOUUUU ARE SERVILE.”
(via lostinhogwarts)
A man in love with a woman from a different era.
(via lostinhogwarts)
Drumming
My thundering chest or
your practicing best
Nowadays I am surrounded by drums
You hitting every one
She was sixteen, brown-haired and brown-eyed, slender and beautiful. The people called out her name as she passed, held up their children for her blessing, and scattered flowers under the hooves of her horse.
(Source: aryastarks, via lostinhogwarts)
I’ve been trying to write poems about you in my head all day, but it’s been a drunken chase for truth and I’m worn out and in stitches.
I suppose I’d rather sit here reeking of cigarettes, banking on my “unfinished business” than pursuing a fresh-aired future with you. I am a fool in five colors and god knows you deserve better than a man who, for all his love of the present, can’t sieze a chance at love right in front of him. Better to do honor to uncertainty and a summer’s sun long since set.
My soft-skinned lover, I will curse this day for as long as I live; the day my heart’s strange shape and cavernous size still had no room for a beautiful girl with a mind like a tapestry unfolding in the sun.
I could never not choose you and you will keep on being my choice. But I can’t let you follow me to the shores of some foreign sea, where I need to put to rest all the ghosts of last year so that I can function in love again.
I see myself reaching out for you when the leaves change color. I see you hating me for it even now. I see the words I can say to fix all this.
Clearest of all, I see a poor bastard who gambled his heart away too often and too cheaply. And what a pauper I am now.
