I felt like crying but nothing came out. It was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can’t feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. But I think I have known it pretty often, too often.
Charles Bukowski,
Tales of Ordinary Madness (via
larmoyante)
(via expressedinhibition)
I felt like crying but nothing came out. It was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can’t feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. But I think I have known it pretty often, too often.
Charles Bukowski,
Tales of Ordinary Madness (via
larmoyante)
(via expressedinhibition)
Later that night
I held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
It answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.
Warsan Shire (via
oktoberlyons)
(via itsemilymd)
