hardstartcollective-blog

[hardstartcollective-blog]

Her tounge tasted like stale cigarettes and a forgotten sense of purpose.

xnovemberrain (via xnovemberrain)

[hardstartcollective-blog]

Sad Messages on the Q Train (Original Painting: “Q Train” by Nigel Van Wieck)

[hardstartcollective-blog]

watching stars die

there’s a dim glow from a blue bulb hanging in the sky i wonder who else sees her she flickers and fades as thin clouds carelessly stumble past

i’ve been told when stars die they take whole worlds with them the warmth that once lingered on the napes of necks silently swallows the entirety of other celestial bodies

when you told me that if i took myself from this world i’d take yours with me i saw the stars in a different light

[hardstartcollective-blog]

Ashes from the cigarettes we use to numb the hunger in our stomachs Caught in a strange wind We have collected on the working man’s drenched forehead The children are drawing their futures on pavements with charcoal made of our blood The smoke is a heavy cloak wrapped around our shoulders It keeps us warm as we retreat to slumber in our cars It masks the glares of the upper class. She whispers to us and says that we belong The embers are still burning We have yet to diminish We are crouched in anticipation Flames in our chests Waiting for a spark

@rachtheimpalor