Those damn claws, they’re hooked into me deep. They rake against my back drawing crimson lines of pain and pleasure. Through broken skin, the stress pours out of me like a black waterfall. Happiness flows and drowns the stress of the outside world. The marks turn to scabs and then fresh skin. Thats when I know its time to bleed again. They have a hold on me, those claws. I can’t escape them, and I never want to.
(Source: weheartit.com, via leavingthegroup)
(via leavingthegroup)
Honestly I feel that the ability to read minds would be a burden. People already never want to talk about what’s on their mind. If they knew you could read minds they would deny it even more, even if the truth was there smacking them in the face.
“The problem with communication … is the illusion that it has been accomplished.“
“I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.”— Charles Bukowski
(via lapetitecoquettefemme)
