I feel sad that beautiful things must die,
even shadows made of smoke and flame,
whatever I thought I had made out of my life—
music, poems, books, kisses, a little useless fame.
photo / @Jisisisback
writing / BILL ZAVATSKY
From Russia With Love
I feel sad that beautiful things must die,
even shadows made of smoke and flame,
whatever I thought I had made out of my life—
music, poems, books, kisses, a little useless fame.
photo / @Jisisisback
writing / BILL ZAVATSKY
You will become sickly like the rest
Your world, in a divine yet baneful state of decay
But don’t fret,
Every stage is a step, in the echoing chaos of life
photo / Dario Scommegna
writing / Sarah Fontaine
When I stand in full sun I feel I have been falling headfirst for
decades.
God, I am so transparent.
So light.
photo / Anastasia Kontchaeva
writing / NOAH WARREN
You rained on me
Turns out I can’t swim in my own grief
Let alone your misery
I’ll drown out here alone
In reality, you know it never happened.
You are waking up from the long bad dream,
the same as before – unchanged, if only for the better. S
harper, more colorful,
more quiet.
it becomes more unbearable over the years
as things get clearer
and desire becomes hungry and
and so many things
it gets so foggy you wouldn’t believe
photo / (x)99.
we were poisoning ourselves
we liked the tasted of it
it feels like dreams
kids that look like me are driving on the road
I’m trying to stay here more
yesterday is here
photo / Ivana Rajic
I keep running into your goddamn face.
It’s not even you.
I don’t think anybody is coming.
I’m not waiting
I’ve got safe spots