"I hope you one day realize what it’s like to have a
poet’s brain. How impossible it becomes to hold a
pen without having it tremble in anticipation to scrawl
out your name. How binding it feels to know that even
a poem dedicated to your current lover will always somehow
trace back to an ex; invisible threads linking hidden messages
inside the ‘I love you’s’, converting them for your eyes to see
as ‘I miss you’s’. The inner sections of my fingers are
calloused from holding a cigarette to my mouth instead of a
pencil because sometimes I feel that’s less self-destructive
than dedicating another goddamn poem to you. Your touch
was like a brand on my brain, a seal I could never distract
myself from because it burns just as hot today as the night
you pressed your scolding touch to my heart.
On second thought, I hope you don’t because this lingering
agony is something I wouldn’t wish upon the devil himself,
and worse yet,

within the poet’s brain a memory is never forgotten // Haley Hendrick (via s-k-e-t-c-h-e-d)



Times Square from above.

god level.


i wanted to go to music festivals with you and lie on the ground when we’re too exhausted, and you could lie in my lap and i’d play with your hair and fingers and you’d fall asleep listening to rad music

Devil’s Fingers
The picture above is of a mushroom thats thought to be a specimen of Clathrus archeri right before its fingers open up. It closely resembles a hand coming out of the ground. It even has the remnants of its tattered sleeves attached to the wrist.


Just another lake photo

Holy crap.