floatingnomad

[floatingnomad]

[floatingnomad]

A year from now you will wish you had started today.

Karen Lamb (via wordsnquotes)

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Janet Fitch, White Oleander

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First sunrise of 2016, by edwardkb.

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Daehyun Kim 

[floatingnomad]

desire, like a glowing spark bursting at the end of december. its fiery string softly charring, resting as a silent noose around my neck. inflamed skin, redness spreading (outward in concentric circles) the red fire ants of want leaving raw skin, bitten tongue, a frozen river of unsaid words.

want(ing; ed), by floatingnomad (via floatingnomad)

[floatingnomad]

it is the way in which your eyes have opened (how the rays of sun glimpse the corners) like fluttering wings of a firefly ringing to the pouring rain like turning over a page uncovering its fold with haste to reach the end of a sentence that woke you from a warm bed

waking up with a desire for familiar words, floating nomad (via floatingnomad)

[floatingnomad]

Dreams - pristine glow like embers, carry fiery chants on their muscled backs murmur in the darkness, settle into my bed as we converse in images, threaded, spider-silk I clutch them closer with shaking fingers fingers that only remember the touch of rough pages, unshaven skin, desert lips.

dreams, floatingnomad (via floatingnomad)

[floatingnomad]

Find a beautiful piece of art. If you fall in love with Van Gogh or Matisse or John Oliver Killens, or if you fall love with the music of Coltrane, the music of Aretha Franklin, or the music of Chopin - find some beautiful art and admire it, and realize that that was created by human beings just like you, no more human, no less.

Maya Angelou, you will be missed. (via hydeordie)

[floatingnomad]

Triggered by this post lmao. But really, I’m finally living for myself at 25. If that means the end is near, then I accept. whole-hearted. we’ll go like flowers in full-bloom before the rot. 

isn’t it creepy that from the day you are born you start to die

[floatingnomad]

[floatingnomad]

[floatingnomad]

dreams like cotton candy ballooning into puffs in the darkness with hopes, fears and desires

pastels clouds of pinks, purples, blues their details soaking - slowly - out faltering into a sweet sticky mess at noon

[floatingnomad]

If you’re a writer/poet with a full time job or other work that takes up a lot of your time. When/how do you find the time to write? I’m struggling to get into that headspace for writing.

[floatingnomad]

you’ve molded me into a softness (suddenly my mouth endangers my heart)

coal embers stirring in my chest (you exhale quietly)

i woke up one day at the bottom of this river my heart lumped at the throat drowning,                reaching out in the darkness                the words flooding my chest                air unable to escape the lips

[floatingnomad]

Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.

Kurt Vonnegut (via wordsnquotes)

[floatingnomad]

kitten & the bear (toronto) (35mm)