What You Need — The Weeknd
The Weeknd → What You Need
I just want to take you there
He don’t got to know where
Does he touch you here like this?
Let me take the friction from your lips
I awoke with the heart ripe with poetry.
"My mother doesn’t like tattoos. She says art belongs on a wall. Well I say no one, not even my mother gets to tell me I can’t be a masterpiece."
"God called me Fish Heart. Lily Mouth. I was an evening sort of girl. He liked me better ripped up, bar bathrooms, bar peanuts, skip the small talk. We’re both Adam. We’re both Eve. In the mornings, swallowing bait, swallowing nails, pulling apart the microwave, two forks and an empty socket. Baby, there is always a limit. Hours spent rubbing my belly, waiting for watermelon trees, or orange bushes, or flowers heavy with green apples. And now, this is what I can dissect: his fingers in the gut of the fish, his fingers in the core of the flower, always pulling. Like it wasn’t enough to feel, like He had to see, to know."
burglar of the mind: depression
sometimes i begin to feel as if
my soul accidentally got caught on
someone else’s sleeve and
I was left behind, robbed of any reason to live.
Only SIX MORE DAYS to submit your poems to Button Poetry’s annual chapbook contest! Winner receives a $500 cash prize, 50 free copies, and roundtrip travel to Minnesota for a book release party, filmed by Button. Note: ALL FINALISTS FROM THE CONTEST will be invited to perform and be filmed at a Button show. Don’t miss out, and make sure to like and reblog to spread the word!
i wish i had more money to buy more books :/
is another night of
disassembling & detaching
body from mind, mind from
thoughts, & thoughts from suicide’s corridors
In the morning, i resemble a civil war—
purple conviction in my heart, bruises along my spine,
soil under my feet, & my will in my hands—
soldiers have never looked so roughly tender
As hard as it is, I summon myself whole, stitching
my strength together like a wound that has been
torn apart repeatedly,
and found the God in me—
I’m still here, breathing with pulse I am glad
I did not mute.
"Often, when we have a crush, when we lust for a person, we see only a small percentage of who they really are. The rest we make up for ourselves. Rather than listen, or learn, we smother them in who we imagine them to be, what we desire for ourselves, we create little fantasies of people and let them grow in our hearts. And this is where the relationship fails. In time, the fiction we scribble onto a person falls away, the lies we tell ourselves unravel and soon the person standing in front of you is almost unrecognisable, you are now complete strangers in your own love. And what a terrible shame it is. My advice: pay attention to the small details of people, you will learn that the universe is far more spectacular an author than we could ever hope to be."
FIRST EDITION SIGNED BY FITZGERALD HIMSELF I HELD IT IN MY HANDS AND MY BREATH
I literally whispered “oh my god” in awe