Poetry and quote image archive.

i feel my bones breaking cracking from the pits of what i call this the hollow beneath the noise the place where old feelings settle and refuse to leave the desire of fields and men who leave me with their ghosts and i …

in repetition i speak toward the muse between the mist and the fog of where i leave you in dazes like this where the haze gathers around itself and we frolic through time skipping between timelines between moments separ…

the sweat at your knees how we drip and fumble words slipping like vibrations down the curve of your neck the sound of the woods surrounds us and i leave you there inside it do you understand i reach forward to give us …

in what we call this the lighting between us the places we leave each other in the longing the devotion the emotions left unmoved resting quietly beneath the surface we stand here giving pieces of ourselves away to ever…

darkness does not frighten me for those who consume it know it arrives from everywhere we find chaos in breathing in the mist of our voices the fog gathering between us at night the way silence grows when words become t…

in knee-deep grass i move through this slowly between long stretches of dirt i call home where the earth feels uneven beneath me and memory settles into the ground like rain that never fully dries we make movement in pa…

i follow hollow roads through streets that ache beneath my feet we feign in dance together holding strings pulled tightly between us so thin they could break with one wrong movement and i repeat this motion endlessly li…

this time aches hollow like wooden boards covered in old numbers weathered markings proof that something once stood here and i lay beside the sound of regard hoping to answer eventually once my thoughts learn how to spe…

and i move with the way we transcend into bits and pieces of ourselves falling softly through the evening street lights flickering above us beneath the daze of where we left this the glow reflecting on pavement like mem…

to reach through drawers of empty closets inside homes that no longer exist except in memory except in the quiet corners of ourselves where old lives continue breathing softly the webs interlocked in memory dust resting…