(Source: set-of-sun)

yanghi: brocade.

yanghi:

brocade.

(Source: yanghi)

(Source: lastkingsdesigns)

(Source: thebusstopworld)

(Source: virgilabloh)

(Source: newseum)

i stole those roses.  I Love That Beach: knots, nuts and bolts reside with debris and residue salt water for breakfast, seasick, gut spit the rest of you drowning in buyer’s remorse ‘cause you traded away the best of you spray-painted black the window with the best of view shot glass of gasoline, my plan is full-proof  swallowed my pride and chased it with ale stomping sandcastles in the sun, tanning a soul that’s grown pale i brought sand to the beach towing a shovel and cigarettes in a pail at the shoreline, within inches of a white-flag flail  who are you again? you introduced a thespian  oil and water don’t mix, needed a fix now look at the mess we’re in tempted to steal back the peace we’re resting in i commend the voodoo, sprayed me with hex, again tap a nerve, pull the pins from spine its always a 50/50 gamble, consolation is half a mind bandit in all black trying to steal back time witch’s brew by the cauldron, i chugged straight, sprinkled vinegar with lime drunk off holy water, bended knee at shrine her wet on my tongue, no other heaven to find tasted of her and i took it in vein pulsing with venom, the pearliest of fangs no sleep for the wicked, at daybreak the nooses hang a killer in every sense of the word, sociapathic tendencies and a mean shoe game rooted in trauma, a rose made of stone, i could not pluck her but i know exactly how many licks, but that’s ‘cause i’m a sucker high on a sugar rush, gravity drags me with all it can muster ignored signs on the road, no breaks, i rushed her conference calls in the loo, i could never trust her  insecurities and bad behaviour account for the lack of lustre  i waste words but its how i show i’d like to be a grown up but being emotionally unsophisticated is all i know tried hard to hold on broken wrists are plated, copper in a row subscribe to easy cliché, Being Jaded is my favourite show pioneer of my ways, preserve my heart in snow why sweat working towards growth when i can let my heart grow cold if logic is keeping score my loses are 2 and 0 spent the night dancing with devils in new dresses her sonic symphony slithered inside how sly the treble clef is high off the sorcerer’s stone, i abide by the Treble Clef Witch when her fable preceded i disregarded as dry snitch a direct hit to the senses i’m a fool for this fly bitch i’m filthy, in need of cleanse, full of hives and an eye twitch looking for a remnant to treasure through sand unmeasured, i sift buried in r.e.m., mining through haunted dreams -too much for my mind’s lift its light work for most but i stumble down steps in the dark they warn not to play with fire but i am addicted to the spark being in love with explosives will leave you in shards.  - PVRRIS

i stole those roses. 

I Love That Beach:

knots, nuts and bolts reside with debris and residue

salt water for breakfast, seasick, gut spit the rest of you

drowning in buyer’s remorse ‘cause you traded away the best of you

spray-painted black the window with the best of view

shot glass of gasoline, my plan is full-proof 

swallowed my pride and chased it with ale

stomping sandcastles in the sun, tanning a soul that’s grown pale

i brought sand to the beach towing a shovel and cigarettes in a pail

at the shoreline, within inches of a white-flag flail 

who are you again? you introduced a thespian 

oil and water don’t mix, needed a fix now look at the mess we’re in

tempted to steal back the peace we’re resting in

i commend the voodoo, sprayed me with hex, again

tap a nerve, pull the pins from spine

its always a 50/50 gamble, consolation is half a mind

bandit in all black trying to steal back time

witch’s brew by the cauldron, i chugged straight, sprinkled vinegar with lime

drunk off holy water, bended knee at shrine

her wet on my tongue, no other heaven to find

tasted of her and i took it in vein

pulsing with venom, the pearliest of fangs

no sleep for the wicked, at daybreak the nooses hang

a killer in every sense of the word, sociapathic tendencies and a mean shoe game

rooted in trauma, a rose made of stone, i could not pluck her

but i know exactly how many licks, but that’s ‘cause i’m a sucker

high on a sugar rush, gravity drags me with all it can muster

ignored signs on the road, no breaks, i rushed her

conference calls in the loo, i could never trust her 

insecurities and bad behaviour account for the lack of lustre 

i waste words but its how i show

i’d like to be a grown up but being emotionally unsophisticated is all i know

tried hard to hold on broken wrists are plated, copper in a row

subscribe to easy cliché, Being Jaded is my favourite show

pioneer of my ways, preserve my heart in snow

why sweat working towards growth when i can let my heart grow cold

if logic is keeping score my loses are 2 and 0

spent the night dancing with devils in new dresses

her sonic symphony slithered inside how sly the treble clef is

high off the sorcerer’s stone, i abide by the Treble Clef Witch

when her fable preceded i disregarded as dry snitch

a direct hit to the senses i’m a fool for this fly bitch

i’m filthy, in need of cleanse, full of hives and an eye twitch

looking for a remnant to treasure through sand unmeasured, i sift

buried in r.e.m., mining through haunted dreams -too much for my mind’s lift

its light work for most but i stumble down steps in the dark

they warn not to play with fire but i am addicted to the spark

being in love with explosives will leave you in shards. 

- PVRRIS

Me And The Devil

minority report

minority report

bang.

bang.

“

Many people are afraid to forgive because they feel they must remember the wrong or they will not learn from it. The opposite is true. Through forgiveness, the wrong is released from its emotional stranglehold on us so that we can learn from it. Through the power and intelligence of the heart, the release of forgiveness brings expanded intelligence to work with the situation more effectively

(via diegobk1986)
Really, I just thought we were in love. That’s all. But goddamn this girl has killed me . I’m in attendance of my own funeral. At least I’m dressed for it. My own fault for giving so much of myself to her, not like she asked me to. I feel disoriented and disconnected. Unplugged, depleted. This post being an outlet because I know she’ll never read it. I don’t even give a fuck how vulnerable this makes me. Like a bench press, I need to get this off my chest. Gave her everything and we left with nothing. In between the sheets we laid beneath rights and wrongs and shared what I thought was a higher truth.  Hell, we even touched during the religious holiday. She told me that with me, “it was never a ‘sin’.” Perhaps it was the heat of the moment but I was lost in her warmth. More than lust, it felt intrinsic, innate, natural -but never easy.  From get-go, there were troubles and red flags I deluded myself into thinking were just early obstacles we’d tackle to get to “the good stuff.” Right. The week we left for toronto was interesting: monday we faught while saturday ended with moment at the train station that left me certain that she and i were solid. But when we got here, things changed almost immediately and this city somehow managed to devour our relationship. Someone or something took her from me, still, i blame no one. I don’t even want to speak ill of what we had because i know it was real -for me at least. Short-lived with effects long lasting, no doubt I’ll take from this the good and scars.  I’m maimed. From shed tears and convulsions to unanswered phone calls and text messages. Shit left me puzzled, to say the least.  Consistently inconsistent. Emotionally bi-polar. A roller coaster I wasn’t tall enough to ride. But regardless there is still “love” here, that and an appreciation for a great moment. Because that’s just what it was. I’m not without blame though. Never in love before, i panicked and perhaps smothered.  Overbearing at times and insecure. None of that could ever be her fault. It’s crazy to think that the same person that makes you whole, can you leave you shattered. I guess therein lies the liability. That said, she confessed she’d never been given what i gave. Trust, she never will again either. I just wanted to hold tight to what i thought i’d never grasp. In truth, I’m still not convinced I’ll find it again. This entire scenario has been a head/heart fuck. Now I’m conflicted feeling love and hate at the same time. Detached yet she still haunts my dreams. Certainty of progression yet feeling withdraws.  I’m a fiend and a junky. She was my heroin and she still runs through my veins.  fuck.

Really, I just thought we were in love. That’s all. But goddamn this girl has killed me . I’m in attendance of my own funeral. At least I’m dressed for it. My own fault for giving so much of myself to her, not like she asked me to. I feel disoriented and disconnected. Unplugged, depleted. This post being an outlet because I know she’ll never read it. I don’t even give a fuck how vulnerable this makes me. Like a bench press, I need to get this off my chest. Gave her everything and we left with nothing. In between the sheets we laid beneath rights and wrongs and shared what I thought was a higher truth.  Hell, we even touched during the religious holiday. She told me that with me, “it was never a ‘sin’.” Perhaps it was the heat of the moment but I was lost in her warmth. More than lust, it felt intrinsic, innate, natural -but never easy.  From get-go, there were troubles and red flags I deluded myself into thinking were just early obstacles we’d tackle to get to “the good stuff.” Right. The week we left for toronto was interesting: monday we faught while saturday ended with moment at the train station that left me certain that she and i were solid. But when we got here, things changed almost immediately and this city somehow managed to devour our relationship. Someone or something took her from me, still, i blame no one. I don’t even want to speak ill of what we had because i know it was real -for me at least. Short-lived with effects long lasting, no doubt I’ll take from this the good and scars.  I’m maimed. From shed tears and convulsions to unanswered phone calls and text messages. Shit left me puzzled, to say the least.  Consistently inconsistent. Emotionally bi-polar. A roller coaster I wasn’t tall enough to ride. But regardless there is still “love” here, that and an appreciation for a great moment. Because that’s just what it was. I’m not without blame though. Never in love before, i panicked and perhaps smothered.  Overbearing at times and insecure. None of that could ever be her fault. It’s crazy to think that the same person that makes you whole, can you leave you shattered. I guess therein lies the liability. That said, she confessed she’d never been given what i gave. Trust, she never will again either. I just wanted to hold tight to what i thought i’d never grasp. In truth, I’m still not convinced I’ll find it again. This entire scenario has been a head/heart fuck. Now I’m conflicted feeling love and hate at the same time. Detached yet she still haunts my dreams. Certainty of progression yet feeling withdraws.  I’m a fiend and a junky. She was my heroin and she still runs through my veins.  fuck.

diegobk1986: The reality is that we all go through our lives meeting, falling in love with, caring about, and then having to part from many, many different people- childhood friends, high school sweethearts, teachers, work colleagues, etc. In our darker moments, we may wonder about the value of those relationships, since they were transitory and ended up not lasting. Were they ‘real’? If so, why didn’t they last? We can love someone and let them go, and that our physical separation doesn’t diminish the realness or the beauty of that relationship. Those people will always be a part of us, just as we will always be a part of that other person. Indeed, the exquisitely melancholy truth is that the act of letting someone go is often the most loving thing one person can do for another.

diegobk1986:

The reality is that we all go through our lives meeting, falling in love with, caring about, and then having to part from many, many different people- childhood friends, high school sweethearts, teachers, work colleagues, etc. In our darker moments, we may wonder about the value of those relationships, since they were transitory and ended up not lasting. Were they ‘real’? If so, why didn’t they last? We can love someone and let them go, and that our physical separation doesn’t diminish the realness or the beauty of that relationship. Those people will always be a part of us, just as we will always be a part of that other person. Indeed, the exquisitely melancholy truth is that the act of letting someone go is often the most loving thing one person can do for another.

(Source: diegobk1986)

(Source: enchanting-breathtaking)