A Room of my Own
Literature, prose, poetry, words and more words...

"Open a book this minute and start reading. Don't move until you've reached page fifty. Until you've buried your thoughts in print. Cover yourself with words. Wash yourself away. Dissolve."

Creator: Tarkovskologist
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To-Virginia wordsfullofechoes
1 of 22
There was no Purple suitable —
You took it all with you —
— Emily Dickinson, from “[1320]” (via proustitute)

restless days
always fighting
with all your
heart and soul
so as not
to fail at

Charles Bukowski, my song

having been
born into this
strange life
we must accept
the wasted gamble of our
and take some satisfaction in
the pleasure of
leaving it all

Charles Bukowski, mind and heart

I have been alone but seldom
I have satisfied my thirst
at the well
of my self
Charles Bukowski, mind and heart

and when the death struggle
the last thing I wish to see
a ring of human faces

Charles Bukowski, mind and heart

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
John Keats, Ode to a Nightingale”

I have a stomach ache in my lungs.
It costs me plenty to breathe enough to keep up a soul.
Fernando Pessoa

O my heart broken so excessively by me being me!
Fernando Pessoa

I need to throw up, to throw up myself …
I’m so nauseated that if I could eat the universe just to spew it into the
sink, I’d do it.

Fernando Pessoa

what’s poetry? nobody knows. it changes. it works by itself
like a snail crawling up the side of a house.
Charles Bukowski, “kaakaa & other immolations”