[christine wehr] life directed

April 15, 2014 at 7:34pm
5,168 notes
Reblogged from shailenewoodleydaily

But I believe in true love, you know? I don’t believe that everybody gets to keep their eyes or not get sick or whatever, but everybody should have true love, and it should last at least as long as your life does.

But I believe in true love, you know? I don’t believe that everybody gets to keep their eyes or not get sick or whatever, but everybody should have true love, and it should last at least as long as your life does.

(Source: shailenewoodleydaily, via realannawebb)

152,349 notes
Reblogged from thewanderingwomb

(Source:, via impossibaltis)

15,905 notes
Reblogged from ibmblr

5,423 notes
Reblogged from vein


"Sometimes I think I have felt everything I’m ever gonna feel. And from here on out, I’m not gonna feel anything new. Just lesser versions of what I’ve already felt" - Her (2013)

(Source: vein, via mo0nhoney)

1 note

never again is the salad bar
open for business.
my cheese crackers are waiting
for the day I stop thinking about
food and drinks
don’t hate yourself for the monster
you’ve become, only indulge
in the idea of a great and better
monster. a greener primmer monster
with cabbages and grapefruits and
yesteryear’s raisonettes
fuck you.

fuck everything. 

0 notes

the iconographies
the detentions
the subliminal messages
in the whisperings
the tiniest atoms
only tinier
than that
a resurrection

1 note

the rightest things were the blackest,
the wine
the jest and the ebony cradle
the docent
and the pauper
the internet stalker

1 note

the thick fingers remember
no line in the sand
and the meadows from which
you came were only in
the distance as loud as
this crack town, with all of
her crack people
slobbering into existence and
sweltering in the haze of
unforgiving and fancy
thoughts. the light is
in the dawning of the
matchsticks and booze
cigarettes and losing
the loss of your one chance
to sleep away the pain and the
fragile nature of the ones you
once knew, those who came before

the cold facts
dance in the moonlight
on this blood-red night and
you still shimmy your way
up the pole
into the stardom into
the dancing midnight

slobbering in your sleep
leaving the country
and dying for the dreams
you once had of homeland
deja vu and
back scratching
cinder blocks

the assignment wasn’t
finished but your fingers
were itching for more work
and it was only the opportunity
of America that led you down this
path in your immigrant notions
in the infancy of your nymph-hood
in the satellite of your telescope
the satellite that comes around
the test-tube babies
the finders
the losers
and the pole dancers

finding their way
into the clouded frog land
the noisy
streets and the
stony gaze
of a father sky and its
spooky messengers
its delightful memories
it’s yesterday sequences
it’s DNA sequences
the sky is overheard
the street is overhead and the
tables are where they have always been

1 note

sleep is for traitors and salesmen
who sell you the
backstage pass to
the lunar eclipse

April 14, 2014 at 11:52pm
2 notes

yours truly is tired of 
drugs and poorly
designed buildings.
racket ball courts
and moldy watermellon.
synched waistlines
and waiting lines.
musty hotel rooms and 
mismatched gaskets.
dawning dinners
and lakebed findings
without any identification,
without any name

I will tell you my troubles if you
in turn sincerely, sincerely believe
in me and in my desires to change
but I will not change for you 
I will change for the everything that
is you that is me

I will entrench my life with a philosophy
that is so relevant that I cannot stand 
my own ground- I will let it eat me and 
rule over me. and tie me to the sewer grate
because this is what is in my mind and the
thing they called the heart
and they forgot to teach us in school that
the heart is about softening 
and that yoga is good for such things
and sitting in desks is not and it is no place
for spiritual practice

sit up strait and sing 
beneath your back is the tail bone,
is the sit bones

after you sit you will write the
anthology of your dreams and
you will wonder
who will I dedicate this to 
who is worth such a prize and
you will realize how much you hate
yourself and how much you admire
everyone else and you may never
be able to reconcile. 

you have to spit these things onto
message boards and forums because
they are an extension of the mind
they are the mind.
into the ether
they say they
are ready to accept
messages received
and the telegraph transmitted
the signals to the aliens and 
victims and undersea men

we can map the ocean floor
under the flooded streets are the
tears that laid the foundation
for all of this