angel-headed hipsters.

  • click here.

    curious?old stuff

  • umbrag:

owning it to tatyana fazlalizadeh’s artwork

    A lesson in lung capacity, in tears streaked
    like a windshield. How hungry winter was.

    Broke into apartments,
    slept in kitchen sinks, in mouse holes.
    Kept snow in our back pockets, eyes burnt
    out like city lights. I took the scenic route
    each night, broke Corona bottles outside bars
    with no names, smeared faces. Fingers sticky
    with lime juice. It was easier, then.

    Hands coated in flour, honey tongues
    bit by wasps, hornets with yellowing bodies
    crawling from the bathtub, from the back
    of my throat. Dry mouth for months.
    Found gifts in medicine cabinets, in forgotten mothers.

    The spine of a woman
    who can’t remember her first name.
    A mattress, gutted and gagged,
    pulled down stairs like a body.

    Yasmin Belkhyr, Coney Island, a Widow (via wildflowerveins)

    Reblog5 months ago with 348 notes

    sparks & sizzles

    "A woman’s love is like a candlewick; meek and slow to alight, but burning steadily through the dark. A man’s love is like a firecracker: dazzlingly bright and beautiful, but consuming itself within seconds. One is a source of nourishment, the other, an ephemeral spectacle.” 

    Reblog6 months ago with 1 note