be a good baby, do what i want

icantwritegood:

rawest fucking florence and the machine lyrics in no particular order:

  • no more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
  • want me to love you in moderation, do i look moderate to you?
  • this will be my last confession, ‘i love you’ never felt like any blessing, whisper it like it’s a secret only to condemn the one who hears it
  • because i am done with my graceless heart, so tonight i’m gonna cut it out and then restart
  • tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks and the kindest of kisses breaks the hardest of hearts
  • but the loneliness never left me, i always took it with me, but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company
  • at seventeen i started to starve myself, i thought that love was a kind of emptiness, but at least i understood then the hunger i felt, and i didn’t have to call it loneliness 
  • the fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress
  • it’s an even sum, it’s a melody, it’s a battle cry, it’s a symphony 
  • but i know it’ll have to drown me, before i can breathe easy
  • to the crowd i was crying out, and in your place there were a thousand other faces
  • and it’s over and i’m going under, but i’m not giving up i’m just giving in
  • in a moment of joy and fury i threw myself from the balcony like my grandmother, so many years before me
  • and it’s peaceful in the deep, cathedral where you cannot breathe
  • i know i seem shaky, these hands aren’t fit for holding
  • i’m not beat up by this yet, you can’t tell me to regret, been in the dark since the day we met, fire help me to forget
  • it seems that i have been held in this dreaming state, a tourist in the waking world, never quite awake
  • shower your affection, let it rain on me, pull down this mountain, drag your cities to the sea
  • and i did cartwheels in your honor, dancing on tiptoes, my own secret ceremonials
  • a year like this passes so strangely, somewhere between sorrow and bliss
  • in the spring, i shed my skin and it blows away with the changing winds
  • i swallow the sound and it swallows me whole until there’s nothing left inside my soul
  • and i want you so badly, but you could be anyone 
  • i was in the darkness, so darkness i became

(via daerienn)

baroquetamagotchi:

“It’s spring, you’re young, you’re lovely, you have a right to be happy. Come back into the world.”

— Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle (via luthienne)

(via daerienn)

artfully-wayward:

image

Linda Pastan, from a poem titled, “Why Are Your Poems So Dark?”

Image ID: “Ask the moon.

Ask what it has witnessed.”

(via driftingawaay)

zorgeloosheid:

“You won’t allow me to go to school. I won’t become a doctor. Remember this: One day you will be sick.”

—

– Poem written by an 11 year old Afghan girl 

This poem was recorded in a NYT magazine article about female underground poetry groups in Afghanistan. An amazing article about the ways in which women are using a traditional two line poetry form to express their resistance to male oppression, their feelings about love (considered blasphemous), and their doubts about religion. 

One of the best articles I’ve read all year. Here’s the link

(via chidealist)

(via driftingawaay)

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