February 2011
72 posts
Walk and don’t stop walking. Walk until the weather gets warmer, walk until it hurts. Walk until I find you and you find me. Walk together.
January 2011
71 posts
Pastel
robbersmusic:
Why love? Why let a woman lay on you all her doubt and fear? What fear? The fear that the fantasy of love won’t persist, or that the fantasy of love will come at all? Is the man the man, or does he only exist in your head? The face doesn’t match the promise, and the promise doesn’t have a face.
Sweet
I’m writing to tell you my sickness. It chants a hymn of longing. I can’t tell you where it hurts, but I know it depreciates my passion. When the chorus comes, my heart swells and seizes my diaphragm. I don’t sing with my gut, I sing with my heart. I can’t sing with my heart until you give it back to me.
And what will you do with a girl if she's refusing...
lq= low quality
lq- lauren quinn
coincidence? … I think not.
watched "Chicano! The History of the Mexican...
era buenaaaaa.
ktjack:
Am I the only one who gets a black background and a separate window on facebook when I look at pictures?
I DO TOO! I thought I was the only one!
Watchasparagusgloop:
little lauren singing some sarah
i’m a bit retarded and tone deaf and hit bad notes or don’t hit them at all but I really enjoy playing/singing.
Sometimes
sierrasrightbrain:
You just gotta pull over your car, move the seat back, punch off the radio, attack your steering wheel and cry for a minute. When you’re done, continue to drive.
can’t even tell you how many times I’ve done that.
Static Touch
Arms extended. I’m standing at the foot of infinite greatness, brilliance stretching just from my chest to my fingertips. It’s perfection that hurts; stings my nostrils and makes my eyelids feel like they’re home to millions of tiny splinters. I close them. I close my mind and my jacket too. I exhale no sigh of relief, but gulps of anxiety underneath a weighty Nebraskan sky.
I took it because I...
Me: “Do whatever makes you happy.”
Trina: “Don’t even say that because nothing makes me happy”
Me: “Oh, stop. I’m going to die soon, Trina.”
Caity Aldous,
next time you see me in the hall, you must TACKLE or SCREAM at me because for the most part I am oblivious whilst walking! my friend told me that you tried to wave and I ignored :-( I was really upset that I didn’t see you.
Sincerely,
Me.
i’m not rotten, i’m rotting.
tongue in cheek
Subtle heart. A heart that does not speak but pulsates instead. I used to kiss lightly. I was gentle. I was being half hearted. Now I kiss to tear romance, to squeeze the life out of sentiment. I kiss to displease. My heart is closed to everyone except me because I’m the only one who knows how to love and love well.
The Postal Service - Nothing Better
my intestines are stuck together
“But I didn’t understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would...”
– Haruki Murakami (via make-me-smile)
“People think dreams aren’t real just because they aren’t made of...”
– Neil Gaiman
stop singing with a stranger's voice
& take your own advice.
Anarquia en el Reino Unido
ROBBERS: Revamp →
robbersmusic:
When you dream of relationships that never happened, it makes dreaming your only gauge of what’s real. My dreams remind me of need and want; and take those faces and feelings that project that and mash and skew them: to a point of complete unfamiliarity. When reality returns, all that remains is…
Watchkevinopena:
lemme get a dubbie yo
why is everyone so mad at God/god? I allow myself to be tortured internally by His/his existence. I don’t bother to argue about it or tell anyone my opinions. Or boast. I hate boasting. maintaining inner torment, always.
“I get on the train and I just stand about now that I don’t think of you
I...”
– Black Star, Radiohead
Me (singing): “carry on my wayward son…”
Katrina: “I love that song.”
acid trip of a post. sorry, guys.
Empty. Blank, empty pages. Stark white and naked. There’s thousands of them, flying up and floating down like a poor man who ran into a 10 foot high pile of cash. My mind is an empty page. I haven’t even thought to think let alone write things down. Where is my mind? Placebo song. Fight Club soundtrack. Chuck Palahniuk barfs and bleeds beautiful words, I dry heave producing only vile sounds.
I’m...
What Has Brought
robbersmusic:
What has brought me here? Why must I be here? Why must I age? Why must I age without you? Have I conducted this sappy composition, or has God damned me to pend on? I’d rather the interpretation of your face, than your face at all. I’d rather love what could have been, than to never have known you. If I don’t have the heart today, than I never will.
my subwoofer now doubles as an air conditioner
DUBSTEP.
