The moon is like a giant ball of crumpled up paper full of everyone’s crappy writings and poetry.
There are things in my mind I’ve locked away, and there are things that run wild and free.
The moon is like a giant ball of crumpled up paper full of everyone’s crappy writings and poetry.
My dear,
Find what you love and let it kill you.
Let it drain you of your all.
Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.
Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.
yourclassyslut:

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danielcabrelugo:

I tried graffiti long time ago… Didn’t make it.
To each there comes in their lifetime a special moment when they are figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a very special thing, unique to them and fitted to their talents. What a tragedy if that moment finds them unprepared or unqualified for that which could have been their finest hour.
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