February 2012
129 posts
1 tag
“sadness drips like water beads
in a half-poisoned well,
I know that my chances...”
– Charles Bukowski (via henrycharlesbukowski)
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scherhrazadeh:
Really I cant help but think about you, the languor and your drink, Crescent lit upon crossed topped night and how everything profoundly felt so right with your desire to float among the stars and with binoculars, you stared into Mars. Munsters in the background, comical yet blue “Fuck whiskey to hell, I want to sink into you” You said.
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