“If I overreach myself for love, it is because I crave it so much, and have known so little of it. Love as perhaps an opiate; but I know it to be creative as well.”
— Allen Ginsberg, from a letter to Jack Kerouac (via violentwavesofemotion)
“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer: that you are here; that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”
— Robin Williams, Dead Poet’s Society


Sometimes I sit at bars and write. It’s good inspiration. Whether or not this is any good is a different story, but, here it is.

I can replay the night I met you
Word for word
In my head and to anyone who’ll listen
No matter how drunk I was
Under the haze of…


Like Joel in Eternal Sunshine, I rush headfirst into women that show me affection. I’m particularly hopeless if they fit into the ideal of a woman that I have created during the last decade of drunken nights where I’ve fallen in love at the bar with someone new over a glance across the top of my…


people may say a women studies degree is useless, but i cannot stress how much i have to combat misogyny and racial & sexual stereotypes on the DAILY in my workplace. ranging from crass usage of “slut,” snide comments about trans* people, casual “that’s gay” remarks, or stating how a certain race…


her veins were the poetry
under her skin,
and her eyes
the starry expanse above me.

i wanted to take
her still-beating heart
from her chest
gently, oh so gently,
because it was the most beautiful thing
i had ever seen.

if only my hands
could grasp her tighter,
and if i could map
the highways in her head,
i think she could love me.

(via pen-names)


hardwired into our minds
are parts we often try to hide.
the dusty, the dirty,
the violent, the pathetic.
we want to appear as aesthetic
to the rest of the world
as is humanly possible.
but what happens,
I dare to ask,
when we come across a person
who begins to tear down our…

Inspiration. #words at the Red Bull art gallery event in Silver Lake last night. (at Mack Sennett Studios)


It is no secret that a song can take you back to a moment. Think of how many times you have heard your favorite song on the radio and you remember that night you were at a concert and the band played it. It transports you back to the moment instantly as the faulty camera of your mind does its…