Signa // Verba

workman:elisebrown:Cracked But Not Broken by ParallelDeviant

the nights you fight best
are
when all the weapons are pointed
at you,
when all the voices
hurl their insults
while the dream is being
strangled.

the nights you fight best
are
when reason gets
kicked in the
gut,
when the chariots of
gloom
encircle
you.

the nights you fight best
are
when the laughter of fools
fills the
air,
when the kiss of death is
mistaken for
love.

the nights you fight best
are
when the game is
fixed,
when the crowd screams
for your
blood.

the nights you fight best
are
on a night like
this
as you chase a thousand
dark rats from
your brain,
as you rise up against the
impossible,
as you become a brother
to the tender sister
of joy and

move on

regardless.

— Charles Bukowski Regardless (via ambit-line)

iheartmyart: Kara Neko, Brooklyn 2013(via christinajorro)

(Source: christinajorro)

"Month by month things are losing their hardness; even my body now lets the light through; my spine is soft like wax near the flame of the candle. I dream; I dream."

— Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via realquiet)

(Source: poetryloves)

mianoti: IFP, Promised Land, 1992via iheartmyart

(Source: crematorie)

"I don’t think that people accept the fact that life doesn’t make sense. I think it makes people terribly uncomfortable."

— David Lynch (via hora-fericirii)

(Source: 009821)

madaeli26: Lifes by Gintara Kasperionis

"The true thoughts that go on inside us are just too fast and huge and all interconnected for words to do more than barely sketch the outlines of, at most, one tiny little part of us at any given instant."

— David Foster Wallace (via mynameiselly)

"Chão nocturno este
onde nos debatemos
desesperando suavemente
sobre o verde esquecido dos líquenes.
Um só roseiral avança
numa confusão de pétalas
seio incontinente
nos bordos da blusa
e nada mais importa."

Eric Fischl. The Bed, the Chair, Head to Foot, 2000.
Oil on Linen. 79 x 100 inches.

Querer vertebrar
o silêncio destes dias
e surpreender o impensado
nos teus gestos
enquanto rostos oblíquos
entardecem suavemente.

A noite chega
e eis-me predicando
uma salvação qualquer
no calor do teu regaço.

A matéria do dizer
há-de ousar a luz.

microwalrus: Philippe Ramette’s illusions » Design You Trust – Design Blog and Community

"I cannot use language to get outside language."

— Ludwig Wittgenstein (via mycolorbook)

mythologyofblue: Sol LeWitt