ellasky reblogged
Goodbye 2020
#pascalcampion
It’s the worst curse, to always miss someone who doesn’t miss you back
ellasky reblogged
psych-facts
Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My god, do you learn.
C. S. Lewis (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
ellasky reblogged
I am selfish, private and easily bored. Will this be a problem?
Neil Gaiman (via quotemadness)
I’m obsessed
An obsession beyond my comprehension of life,which only madman can endure
over his smile and his beautiful eyes
And to think how long it’s gonna last
Since love simply slips into obsession
and obsession easily turns into hate
One can expect how much longer until it becomes hate
and if I hate, I’d hate with the hate that beyond comprehension of how one’s capable to hate
Thinking of someone
ellasky reblogged
charles-bukowskis-backyard
#charlesbukowski by dalidcn https://instagram.com/p/13EQz8R1i0/
If words fail to reach your soul, I hope the tears might do
ellasky reblogged
Vincent Van Gogh’s last words before he died from a self inflicted gun shot
One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters…But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose. But get drunk.
Charles Baudelaire (via thekinfolksociety)
ellasky reblogged
She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.
(via beschaedigung)
ellasky reblogged
ellasky reblogged
It has been a beautiful
fight. Still
is.
Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense (via wnq-anonymous)
Source: wnq-anonymous.com
ellasky reblogged
hedonist--poet-deactivated20240
People mistake artists with art. Artists are not interesting, their art is.
Hedonist Poet (via hedonistpoet)
ellasky reblogged
hedonist--poet-deactivated20240
People forgot poetry is magic. Writing is the most sacred art. Writers and poets are insanely lost. That is why everything is so surreal.
Hedonist Poet (via hedonistpoet)
My fear, that your mind is suddenly a stranger.Please, I want you to understand this. There's just no way that I would put my hands on fire, dance throughout the storm, befriend the oddities, alongside a stranger
On Love
ellasky reblogged
He was a wound I wanted to touch.
Gary Percesepe, from “Gaspar” (via wethinkwedream)