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the thief

@yorktay / yorktay.tumblr.com

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poemsbyhunter

I am so stupid. I’m such a fool. All these thoughts are dragging down, drowning me in floods of memories, killing me until my lungs are no longer my own. I am so naive, such a hopeful dreamer, but the future seems bleak. I had tried smoking these worries, these visions away, only to end up choked and suffocated as the smoke wraps itself around me. Although the temporal smoke it fades away, my thoughts just wouldn’t let go. They just wouldn’t. I just couldn’t let go. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t. Sigh.

-by H.

#hunter beckett
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writeworld-blog
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yeahwrite
I think right now we need writers who understand the difference between the production of a commodity and the practice of an art.

Ursula K. Le Guin, not hesitating to lay down some #realtalk about the current state of publishing as she accepts the Medal for Outstanding Contribution to American Letters (via yeahwriters)

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poemsbyhunter

black hole reverie

down we go your fingers intertwined with mine. we fall real slow not knowing what we’ll find. at the end of the fall, we’re still looking for the sign. we have lost control, love’s a mess that led us blind.

—by H.

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poemsbyhunter

sweet little things —by H.

i came by the town’s cafe and ordered for myself a sweet treat. the taste had satisfied a part of my cravings, but it was not enough. how does one enjoy sweet things, when the mind is empty? this vast darkness, this loneliness has been eating me up inside. what’s the point of enjoying life, of enjoying these sweet little things, when you don’t have anyone to enjoy it with?

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