poets can’t resist the dramatic pull of their lives and so inevitably write autobiographical verse.
it's exactly what you think it is
happy endings, they still don’t bore me.
but they have a way of making you pay and make you toe the line.
so fuck foreverrrrrr.
“This wallpaper is killing me. One of us has to go.” — Oscar Wilde’s tomb
i wish i could have gone to coachella.
tolerance that’s true love
in fact, i’d define true love as the ability to share one fridge* with the same person for seventeen years without resorting to fists. it also helps if you also toss in the occassional crumb of affection.
- charlie brooker
*bed
oh yeah, forgot to mention. i went to paris.
now i wish i lived there.
