tamburina: and it hurt as if some woman you loved very much and lived with year after year had died and now you would never again know her music her magic her unbelievable fidelity. Charles Bukowski
What The Dead Fear
tamburina: On winter nights, the dead see their photographs slipped from the windows of wallets, their letters stuffed in a box with the clothes for Goodwill. No one remembers their jokes, their nervous habits, their dread of enclosed places. In these nightmares, the dead feel the soft nub of the eraser lightening their bones. They wake up in a panic, go for a glass of milk and see the moon, the...
So close to giving up.
We all die. The goal isn’t to live forever, the goal is to create something that...– Chuck Palahniuk (via heavydrug)
The only interesting answers are those that destroy the questions.– Susan Sontag (via bloodisthenewblackk)
we must bring our own light to the darkness. nobody is going to do it for...– Charles Bukowski (via soubresaut)
Isn’t it funny how you can ache just from the deadly drone of existence?– Charles Bukowski (via eroded)
tamburina: Why did all that happen to me? Why was I not a bird on the ocean? Instead of this? Klaus Kinski