let me lay waste to thee

franzkavkas:
“crimsonkismet:
“π™½πš˜πšŸπšŽπš–πš‹πšŽπš› 𝟸, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟷
πšƒπš‘πšŽ π™³πš’πšŠπš›πš’πšŽπšœ π™Ύπš π™΅πš›πšŠπš—πš£ π™ΊπšŠπšπš”πšŠ, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹
”
here’s to 100 years of vague hope and vague confidence
” franzkavkas:
“crimsonkismet:
“π™½πš˜πšŸπšŽπš–πš‹πšŽπš› 𝟸, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟷
πšƒπš‘πšŽ π™³πš’πšŠπš›πš’πšŽπšœ π™Ύπš π™΅πš›πšŠπš—πš£ π™ΊπšŠπšπš”πšŠ, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹
”
here’s to 100 years of vague hope and vague confidence
”
crimsonkismet

𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟷
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

franzkavkas

here’s to 100 years of vague hope and vague confidence

yellowpoet

The best advice really is to just write. Write badly - purple prose, stilted conversations, rambling descriptions. Don't delete it, pass go, take your $200, save all your garbage in a big folder. Look at how much you've made - it doesn't matter if it isn't perfect, isn't polished, it was practice. Every time you write you learn a little more, and find another piece of your voice.

firstfullmoon

I loved you at lunch

when the coffee kicked in and you
cut carrots into coins

for our salad, the satisfying, slow knocking
of the dull knife
against the cutting board
while I pretended to read
while I worshipped you from the sofa

— Solmaz Sharif, from “Break-Up,” in Look: Poems