Give me the lover who yanks open the door
of his house and presses me to the wall
in the dim hallway, and keeps me there until I’m drenched
and shaking, whose kisses arrive by the boatload
and begin their delicious diaspora
through the cities and small towns of my body.

To hell with the saints, with the martyrs
of my childhood meant to instruct me
in the power of endurance and faith,
to hell with the next world and its pallid angels
swooning and sighing like Victorian girls.

I want this world. I want to walk into
the ocean and feel it trying to drag me along
like I’m nothing but a broken bit of scratched glass,
and I want to resist it.

Kim Addonizio, For Desire (via hellanne)
2,486 notes
I didn’t like having to explain to them, so I just shut up, smoked a cigarette, and looked at the sea. Albert Camus, The Stranger (via splitterherzen)

(Source: wordsnquotes, via splitterherzen)

3,054 notes
How can I remain peaceful without turning my face completely to the world? I belong to quick, futile moments of intense feeling. Yes, I belong to moments. Not to people. In all other ways I lead a perfectly ordinary life - except that I do not like thinking and talking about anything ordinary unless one makes me. Virginia Woolf, A Passionate Apprentice: The Early Journals 1897 - 1909   (via stainedpoems)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via stainedpoems)

805 notes
Everybody’s youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness. F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Diamond as Big as the Ritz”
3 notes