beauatnight

[beauatnight]

Amar no es sólo arder de noche, es saber lidiar con las cenizas que quedan al día siguiente y cuando las flamas comienzan a apagarse tener la valentía de quedarse, amarlas, avivarlas, y volverlas a encender.

Efimera Lunar Intemporal

[beauatnight]

no no see, domesticity IS hot. how intimate it is to make food with someone, to share a bed, to brush your teeth at the same sink, to shower and use the same towels and the same laundry soap, to grocery shop and hold hands through the aisles, to be cornered in the kitchen to make out while a pot of pasta boils over on the stove. to fall asleep and hear them snoring softly and laugh at the little trail of drool out of the corner of their mouth. to spend money together and share chores and pick on each other for your weird habits. it's not always perfect and beautiful, but it's comfortable and familiar and I just think it's neat.

[beauatnight]

A toxic environment will likely change you more than you change it. So get out.

[beauatnight]

truly some people have no genre savviness whatsoever. A girl came back from the dead the other day and fresh out of the grave she laughed and laughed and lay down on the grass nearby to watch the sky, dirt still under her nails. I asked her if she’s sad about anything and she asked me why she should be. I asked her if she’s perhaps worried she’s a shadow of who she used to be and she said that if she is a shadow she is a joyous one, and anyway whoever she was she is her, now, and that’s enough. I inquired about revenge, about unfinished business, about what had filled her with the incessant need to claw her way out from beneath but she just said she’s here to live. I told her about ghosts, about zombies, tried to explain to her how her options lie between horror and tragedy but she just said if those are the stories meant for her then she’ll make another one. I said “isn’t it terribly lonely how in your triumph over death nobody was here to greet you?” and she just looked at me funny and said “what do you mean? The whole world was here, waiting”. Some people, I tell you.

[beauatnight]

[beauatnight]

*trying to call a woman beautiful but i've forgotten how to engage other humans in conversation* girl, you remind me of architecture

[beauatnight]

The San Francisco Examiner, California, November 16, 1933

[beauatnight]

[beauatnight]

Billy Idol - Late Show with David Letterman - 1984

[beauatnight]

i talked to the butcher and he said i'm his favorite lamb he's ever slaughtered. and when i mentioned your name he didn't even remember slaughtering you

[beauatnight]

El silencio no siempre es indiferencia; a menudo es el grito más profundo del alma.

[beauatnight]

he said he'd take you to shanghai his father's high up he knows how to have a good time wearing bodies splashed across his frame his words weave a beautiful pattern tumbling from his lips in all his languages like a waterfall mesmerising, entrancing, enticing he knows so much, of far away lands of far away people and yet often seems like he doesn't want to know anyone at all looking down upon a shimmering city, he calls you did you know it's my first time in first class? for a few fleeting hours, you entertain the idea that you could be like him too, if only you had worked harder, had kept the same job you could be up there together on billboards, screens worldwide but the lights, the heat, the looks were too much for you you wonder how he stands it- the scrutiny, that is he seems so carefree- is it the money or something more something elusive, that you too once had? caught between your fingers you reminisce upon his smile, his laugh the chocolate he brought you back from Belgium and wonder if you'll ever see his face on anything but a billboard ever again

[beauatnight]

dang okay this got me

[beauatnight]

Mushroom rock near the coast, Norway, 2013 - by Killian Schönberger (1985), German

[beauatnight]

Please retire the "we are made of stardust" phrase I am so tired of it

[beauatnight]

I ATE A BIG BAG OF FACTORY REJECT SEEDS UNTIL A HEALTHY FLOWER UNFURLED IN MY CHEST ...

I MISTOOK THE SENSATION FOR LOVE AND DIED.

[beauatnight]

law of harmonics, poem for my satellite girlfriend