you just got destroyed again. you’re head is still intact. i think it might have just exploded last night. you couldn’t even feel the rest of your body you know, not even your cold feet. but the pictures in the back of your thoughts still showed up nice and bright, smashing against the sides of your skull. what is with the insides of that head of yours, anyway? but you’re still alive. still breathing. still beating. still seeing. you’re awake. you’re not in love, but you just might be.. with everything. is that even love? you love love. you’re not alone. it’s just another day. you don’t know much, but these things you know are true. now get up.
that’s what i woke up thinking to myself this morning. and no, i don’t usually talk in second person. i’ve been all out of sorts today. last night i had the migraine to end all migraines. i wonder sometimes if my migraines are physical manifestations of what’s going on mentally or emotionally in me. like maybe trying to reign in all these wild, half processed, tangled thoughts of mine into something sensible is just too much for my head and heart to handle. i doubt it, but it’s a possibility. it sure does shut me up for a few days though. writhing face down in the corner of your bed can shut you up pretty good.
and in the quiet i always see the same things. funny how such joy and such pain could exist in this very same spot. we walk away with bigger hearts, but we’ve bruised them all up with each other. and such truth on our lips, our mouths working so earnestly together, and we still don’t know what we really want to say. tangled limbs, trying to find our ways around all of this. none of this makes sense. and curled up in a little ball, i’ll revisit it all by myself. my head screaming in agony each time i breathe in. out.
and summer’s bursting at the seams. i need those long nights where the sun goes down at 8pm and the windows blow soft air over my uncovered skin. i need bright colors and loud smiles and soaring hearts.. all running through my veins.
now get up.
needle in the hay//elliot smith
i have to write when i’m like this. my mind isn’t boxed up in nicely kept walls. it spills over ceilings and pours down the hallways and into every room i hide in. all of this is a bunch of bullshit. i know nothing about life, but i see more than ever. i’ll call you on my way to sin city, but i think you care too much to let me be just your friend. you don’t answer. it’s too close. so i’ll just let this air blow thru my windows. and the smell of summer makes me want to fall into a million pieces. where i am right now.. i feel like i’m the silence in the center of a tornado; madness swirling all around me, but i sit still in the mess of it all and there’s nothing but peace where i am. i watch everything get torn to shreds around me, but somehow nothing touches me. and this tornado loves you. my arms and legs feel a little lighter tonight. my heart reacts to your every word and somehow everything you say rips my skin right off.
airplanes//local natives
art signals
trust me. this will be good.

so, my little brobro, zac, and i started a weekly ‘creation challenge’. every week we come up with a challenge having to do with a specified theme and create something having to do with that. this weeks theme was:
vag·a·bond [vag-uh-bond]
1. wandering from place to place without any settled home; nomadic: a vagabond tribe
2. leading an unsettled or carefree life
3. having an uncertain or irregular course or direction
4. a person, usually without a permanent home, who wanders from place to place; nomad
and this is what we created. mine on top, zac’s on bottom. our very own tumblr site will soon be available to view all of our weekly artings. keep your eyes open.
“there was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the stars.” -jack kerouac//on the road-

tarik mikou’s ‘to be a kid again’ series is outstanding in every way. so let’s, shall we.. be kid’s again?
yes. i think we shall.
wasted hands we tear ourselves apart
telling stories our tongues cannot control
with rosy red cheeks, we smile and lose all feeling
lay down and die to the lives we can’t be living
our eyes are opened for the first time in ages
and grabbing daffodils we let our arms rise from our bodies
we’ll flood this land, waist high in freedom
and alive, growing hearts on trees we’ll multiply
heavy legs all crumbling on the scene
this is not the dream of love we had
but picking wounds, blood on our chests
we dig up the graves of our once dead bodies
pick up our bones, and live another day
-wrote that last night as i went to sleep.. huh.
i just got back some gems today..


it feels good. every time i get back a batch of decent photos something happens to my heart. cameras are so much more sure of everything than i am. perhaps that’s why i like them so much. my heart falls to pieces. my head explodes. the world is a little more interesting.
love.