deep sea hymns This space is for creative expression in every form...
a collection of passing moments.


Last flowers of the fall by jorge zapico on Flickr.

Lauren Bacall, September 16, 1924 - August 12, 2014
You are not the heaviness
sitting inside of you.
You are not the battlefield
where the bodies fall,
and you are not the sound of cannons
breaking the sky open.
You are what happens after the war.

The surviving.

The healing.

The rebuilding.
- Y.Z, for the bad nights (via rustyvoices)

Mouth like the lock on a jewelry
box. Mouth like a bruise,
like something that gets
under the skin.
Mouth like where the hell did she
come from?
Mouth like a marching band, like
a parade of sighs.
Mouth like she must be magic,
she must be.

Mouth like pick a card, any card.
Mouth like an opera. Mouth like
I don’t understand you but
I am crying, anyway.
Mouth like a river, like diving
head-first into it. Mouth like a
coffin you want to die in.
Mouth like you’ll never recover,
like nothing will ever be like this
again, and you’re sure of it.

Mouth like do you love her?
Mouth like do you love her or do
you just not want to kiss anyone

- Caitlyn Siehl, Mouth (via alonesomes)

(via alonesomes)


(via Another Moment (Zanita))

Stonehenge - Wiltshire - England (von contemplicity)

When you get to a point where you’ve read an amazing number of books, you change. You’ve read so much that what may seem new or interesting to most (and even to the writer of the book you’re reading) is just a variation to you. Your expectations regarding the work change.

Due to subjectivity being what it is, many writers can mistake what’s happening and view it as the books getting worse, not their own aesthetic changing. Two things can happen. One, despair at what they perceive is the dying of quality. You see this a lot with people who hit a certain number of books read: they begin to rail against the dreadfulness of everything. It can lead to bitterness, cynicism, and outright hatred of something they previously loved.

Secondly, and you see this with a lot of artists, is that they begin to gravitate toward something that feels new to them. They seek out ‘artist’s artists’ and are not happy when those voices aren’t welcomed by the mainstream, because these are stories aimed at people who’ve simply consumed a terrific amount of fiction to be able to enjoy the work.


The fate of today’s book bloggers

I like this idea. It makes me wonder whether the same thing can be said not just for books and music (specifically, I’m thinking of the new Savages album), but film… food… everything. Are there certain high water-marks we reach and never really come back from as manic consumers of something?

(via eurekajunkyard)

(via the-library-and-step-on-it)

I love you, but I’m mad at you is one of the most freeing, important things you can say in a stable relationship. Does that make sense? To know that you have the ability and the right to be mad at someone and know that it doesn’t mean things are over, that it doesn’t mean things are irreparable. That it just means I’m mad, but God, I love you. I love you. Now leave me alone.
- (via devendrabanhart)

(Source: brighteryellow, via the-captain-is-out-to-lunch)

No matter what the tally was, I always lost. I was always thinking in terms of too much or not enough, rarely allowing myself that crucial space in between.
- David Levithan, Wide Awake (via anditslove)

(via loveyourchaos)

"I long so much to make beautiful things. But beautiful things require effort and disappointment and perseverance."
Vincent van Gogh