home alone? did you mean time to practice for my broadway debut?
(Source: culturallybankrupt, via tardis-potter)
and by this, i mean that
you're very kind,
but I wouldn't call
my babbling
poetic.
although I was on a pretty good roll there.
-
“You’ve got a warm heart, you’ve got a beautiful brain.
But it’s disintegrating, from all the medicine.
From all the medicine. From all the medicine.
Medicine.
You could still be, what you want to,
What you said you were, when you met me.”
I think sometimes “medicine” isn’t just about healing, or fixing. Sometimes it’s about coping, but that doesn’t always mean those methods are healthy. When we fill our broken hearts and sad minds with unhealthy, numbing, and overwhelming habits, we find ourselves, well, disintegrating.
-
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We met at the wrong time. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. Maybe one day years from now, we’ll meet in a coffee shop in a far away city somewhere and we could give it another shot.
— Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)(Source: larmoyante, via saltwaterismyblood)
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Sleep now, darling, and rest my dear
As quiet music fills your ears, but we drift away, drift away
Stay awhile – another day
Sleep now, honey, rest your heart
You’re concerned, but just look at where we are, where we are
Compared to the start
-
Leave me on the tracks
To wait until the morning train arrives
Don’t you dare look back
Walk away
Catch up with the sunrise -
Winners compare their achievements with their goals, while losers compare their achievements with those of other people.
— Nido Qubein(Source: zodiaccity)
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This is how my sister sets her alarm for meetings.
In reality, we have to set our alarms for 4:55am. The meeting starts at 5:00am, lazy asses.
<3
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Life as of late.
-
“Shadows settle on the place, that you left.
Our minds are troubled by the emptiness.
Destroy the middle, it’s a waste of time.
From the perfect start to the finish line.
And if you’re still breathing, you’re the lucky ones.
‘Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs.
Setting fire to our insides for fun
Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong.
The lovers that went wrong.
We are the reckless, We are the wild youth.
Chasing visions of our futures.
One day we’ll reveal the truth.
That one will die before he gets there.
And if you’re still bleeding, you’re the lucky ones.
‘Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone.
We’re setting fire to our insides for fun.
Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home,
It was a flood that wrecked this home.
And you caused it. And you caused it. And you caused it
Well I’ve lost it all, I’m just a silhouette,
A lifeless face that you’ll soon forget,
My eyes are damp from the words you left,
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.
Ringing in my head, When you broke my chest.
And if you’re in love, then you are the lucky one,
‘Cause most of us are bitter over someone.
Setting fire to our insides for fun,
To distract our hearts from ever missing them.
But I’m forever missing him.
And you caused it. And you caused it. And you caused it.”
-Daughter
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Desert Sun, Glow Pastel
This is a recent edit from our Time Traveler’s Inspiration photoshoot in Anza-Borrego, CA.
Model: Steph Scurry-Phillips
Photography by Sonora-Leif Audrey/Light Tracers Photography
Edit by Bad Zechariah Design
Styling by D’Millemarise -
Finally looking through some of my modeling portfolio. This AQUEOUS shot is one of my favorites. Why is it that underwater shots look so interesting in high red contrast black & white? I love it!
Photography by Steph Scurry-Phillips/Light Tracers Photography
Lighting by Sam Scurry
Edit by Bad Zachariah Design
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in the spring and summer / in the winter tell your mother / you and I will fall in love / one way or another.
— One Way or Another -
“Pinky promise fingertips, please hold fast, please don’t slip.
Your kiss still keeps real estate. Burns my lips, the taste of it.”
For more info about Camille Leif, check them out at www.facebook.com/CamilleLeif
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I’ve come to believe errors, especially written errors, are often the only markers left by a solitary life: to sacrifice them is to lose the angles of personality, the riddle of a soul.
— Johnny Truant, from Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves. (via thewordsmithy) -
California Sunrise as told by a late blooming Spring muse.
