This is probably one of my most favorite things to happen on Tumblr.

The Last of Us - Left Behind

If you’re ever lucky enough to find a girl who is a hopeless romantic with a dirty mind, you should hold onto that. Because she’ll be yours at two in the morning and at two in the afternoon the following day. She’ll kiss you where it hurts and until it hurts. And that’s important. Someone who not only knows how to turn you on but also knows how to treat you right is someone worth a little something… and a little more than usual.

Been watching a lot of Malcom in the Middle lately and I feel like that show perfectly illustrated how a modern American Family really is - it adds in the imperfections and simple things that a lot of sitcoms seem to not add in there. I miss that.

(Source: alexleefitz)

It’s Ours

there is always that space there

just before they get to us

that space

that fine relaxer

the breather

while say

flopping on a bed

thinking of nothing

or say

pouring a glass of water from the


while entranced by



gentle pure


it’s worth

centuries of



just to scratch your neck

while looking out the window at

a bare branch

that space


before they get to us



when they do

they won’t

get it all


-Charles Bukowski

adam’s rib tastes like shit

i found myself a god when i

slithered out of the womb

so very quietly

until i was screaming

i couldn’t tell myself in that moment

that i was any less human

because i had not loved

or realized there was more than just me


that i could grow to be so much more

i was a god because

i had not loved or

been selfless

i had not drank with my lips

or made love with my;



adam didn’t stick his;

lost floating rib into me

that made Woman

that made Eve

i have to bury my fist into my mouth

until my teeth dig into my skin

before i call out to man

to that man that




and we were made by those


so i grin as i lift my fist

and impale myself

in the floating rib

the diet coke slid down her throat like fresh wax just melted

the perspiration created on the can from the moisture; or lack there of

made me think of her pursed lips in the dawn of the evening

when she’d be riding her bike balancing on her handlebars

a radio blaring weekend summer music

in the middle of autumn

her shoelace would be untied

alternating shoes each week

I’d hear her coming a mile away

listening for the wind chimes hanging from her handlebars

and I knew what Love sounded like

the sun would crawl into the open window in my empty apartment

I would force open the resisting window and hang my head out

my hair would be damp from the night’s sleep; the day sleep

from the shower of manual labor

of; rain that never came in this drought

and I would smile as big as I could muster

so big it hurts and she’d never quite look up to see me

she always seemed to be in her own world

as she’d get closer I’d lean out farther until I’d be on my tip toes

about to fall out of the window

I kept a rope ladder nearby for the day I’d send it down and ask her to marry me

I thought that; not that things would be easy or simple or even; able to comprehend anything you know. Not in a puzzle box sort of way or even a way you can write about later on to laugh about; to tell your kids about. I’ve always seen things as no way at all other than what they are in the moment they occur and it also dawns on me that people always form these made up situations and instances that never actually happened; or ever will or have and because they make up those instances and occurrences and rules; it ruins things. I’m sitting here in the dark listening to wind chimes. I watched two birds fly by over head while storm clouds got closer to me; I was surrounded by blue sky and then darkness and I was sitting in the shade of this building made out of aluminum. It groaned in protest of even standing; but I stayed in it’s shade with my bike on it’s side next to me. I was on these rustic steps that were so rusted over; and I wandered around this vacant lot. With a giant fence padlocked and falling over; a truck in the back with a smashed in windshield and it was scary for a moment because I realized how alone I was. I realized how familiar the fence felt; the ground felt how familiar everything ever was around me because it was Alone. And that’s all I’ve ever known not in this damp dark depressing way but in a way every single person could ever understand regardless if they wanted to or not.

People make me nervous not because they’re; different or surreal or particularly off but because we’re all feeling the same exact way in some form or shape and they make me scared and terrified because they won’t express it. The people that do; that don’t hide it so well from me; they make me happy not because they’re miserable or as miserable or more miserable but because they know how to smile; how to really smile; how to live in moments instead of planned out decades; in years; in these boxed up houses that aren’t ever homes and my girl; I don’t know. We’re so different you know. But I make her smile and she means the world to me and I’m trying to open her up to my world to the world and she knows a lot; but we all suffer the common denominator of not knowing enough. Of not writing enough letters to the people we care a lot about; and becoming saps after romantic films and then running around being romantic then it fades and we go back to our lives.

It’s called the american dream because you can only see it with your eyes closed; and it was never about dreaming so big you can’t accept what life is but dreaming so big that it fully embraces you as you are; your life as it is and everything shapes around you and that’s what it is to be happy. Things don’t fall into place because they’re forced they fall into place because you take steps; to get somewhere to be someone and it works. And isn’t that what happiness is? Going the distance because if you’re all about talking shit; about complaining about moaning and bellyaching about things you apparently can’t change; what is that?

Do shit with your life. you know. That’s my new morality to live by because nobodys going to change you for you. Nobody was made for that big of a job; they’ve got enough problems changing themselves or bellyaching.

And the change I’ve been talking about making for months; years; hours; it hasn’t happened and I know know when it will.

Shadows lick our feet and expectations only exist when there is nothing left to give.

May 31, 2010 at 4:14pm

We drove through the city blasting foreign rock and classic 80s rock. The streets reeked of stale grease from all the fast-food joints and our hair was rustled by the wind.
With red cheeks and pursed lips kissing the air - there was a loud silence piercing everyone’s ears. The world crushed us with it’s sights and sounds while our blossoming hearts crush the inside of our chests from too much love. Our shadows grew to giants after abandoning the metal shrapnel cruiser. The sun with it’s piercing dry heat bloomed a humidity upon air waves trailing through our bodies. To the coffee shop where we downed cup after cup talking about sexual experiences and our own sexualities because no one really can say how sure they are about things anymore - only unsurity surfaces like oil to water.

When the kaleidescope ran out of colours shoppes started dulling down inviting the moon to reveal itself. Bodies pooled out along with the heat that died like a fly that had just been caught off guard. Our skin crystallized while we walked hand-in-hand down the middle of the road running each others fingers through strangers hair. Blood shot eyes become familiar by night while by day they become glossy dazed over like when an infant is convinced when something cannot be seen - it has disappeared into thin air.

Bob Dylan was born and raised. We were raised and then were reborn where he lived. Walking down the lane named after him on his birthday was not walking down memory lane but living in this time where more possibilities become endless and destiny doesn’t seem to exist because our choices are what makes us who we are.

With bitten down fingernails and reddened fingertips - a cigarette between each of our forefinger and middle fingers to each person.

The oldman asking for a drag didn’t get one because we smoked all of them - and that’s how life is. People expect and ask of you of things that you don’t have any left of because we use them up on ourselves.

That’s when we decided to never go home. Ever. We don’t need to. Home was where ever we were.