Animated Inspiration

Still searching for my muse.
Eyes devoid of emotion.
One can only hope to achieve that level of disregard.

Eyes devoid of emotion.
One can only hope to achieve that level of disregard.

(Source: tedbunny)

I’m wholesome, contently so, until the lucidity of the cards I’ve been dealt is uncovered.
Then I’m a God forsaken mess trapped in a hell of my own making.

I’m wholesome, contently so, until the lucidity of the cards I’ve been dealt is uncovered.
Then I’m a God forsaken mess trapped in a hell of my own making.

(Source: inprnt)

I wish you could see what I know to be true, 
Rather than your own idealistic conceived notions and ideals. 
Solitude is starting to sound like a sin.

I wish you could see what I know to be true,
Rather than your own idealistic conceived notions and ideals.
Solitude is starting to sound like a sin.

(Source: gasinmylungs)

My fingers come away from my eyes glittering like diamonds.
Plenty of piqued emotions that come from reasons that shouldn’t be important. 
I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. 
I’ve just been caught off guard. 
Another flawed existence ridden with bullet holes and cracks from stones thrown in spite.
Pointless subjection.
There is no just cause for these sentiments.
None that come straight to mind.
Rather an idea, an interpretation, a conception.
All I know is that I know nothing at all.
Nothing of true value.
None of you do.

My fingers come away from my eyes glittering like diamonds.
Plenty of piqued emotions that come from reasons that shouldn’t be important.
I shouldn’t care. I don’t care.
I’ve just been caught off guard.
Another flawed existence ridden with bullet holes and cracks from stones thrown in spite.
Pointless subjection.
There is no just cause for these sentiments.
None that come straight to mind.
Rather an idea, an interpretation, a conception.
All I know is that I know nothing at all.
Nothing of true value.
None of you do.

(Source: dreamingillusi0n)

La felicidad nunca es completa.

(via mundo—realista)

I hate that this is true for the most of us.

Natalie Portman got something right.

Natalie Portman got something right.

(Source: realizes)

'What a pretty picture' I wonder if people would think the same thought if I let my creative influences take directive. I’d string together glass eyes and iron fillings and hang them from a decaying tree branch. The symbolism would be apparent and give insight into my cynical yet altruistic point of view. Would you think such an image pretty or of poor taste? I wonder what you’d say inside and how it would differ from the words that left your lips. Pay these utterances no heed.  They’re just thoughts voiced through my fingertips.

'What a pretty picture'
I wonder if people would think the same thought if I let my creative influences take directive.
I’d string together glass eyes and iron fillings and hang them from a decaying tree branch.
The symbolism would be apparent and give insight into my cynical yet altruistic point of view.
Would you think such an image pretty or of poor taste?
I wonder what you’d say inside and how it would differ from the words that left your lips.
Pay these utterances no heed.
They’re just thoughts voiced through my fingertips.

(Source: appleday, via fearofgravity)

escapekit:

The Last Billboard

A 36-foot-long billboard located at the corner of Highland and Baum in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Every month, a different individual is invited to take over the billboard to broadcast personalized messages, which are spelt out using wooden letters that are changed by hand. 

you can follow it’s tumblr here. 

This is pretty cool.

(via fearofgravity)

I can’t stop my hands from wanting to write about you,
Just as I can’t stop my mind from thinking,
My mouth from speaking.

I can’t stop my hands from wanting to write about you,
Just as I can’t stop my mind from thinking,
My mouth from speaking.

(Source: ikilledparanoia)

irregularpearl:

Imam Mosque, formerly known as Shah Mosque is a mosque in Isfahan, Iran standing in south side of Naghsh-i Jahan Square.

:faints:

The shrine of Imam Ali (a.s) in Najaf, Iraq is of a similar architecture but even more so majestic. It took my breath away.

(Source: thewintersoldier, via fearofgravity)

Your name is regal, one of refined virtue. It condones no disrespect. The manner in which you conduct yourself is intrinsic, speaking volumes for your namesake. Those you let close are deemed worthy of your presence. None are of a paltry sincerity. You make sure of that. Once I too was celebrated in those ranks but as time passed us by, your acceptance faltered, your countenance growing colder as my sincerity faded in response. 
What I would give to have back the days before those treacherous moments abdicated your position in my heart. 
What I would sacrifice in order to regain your favor.
My leader. My liege. My love.

Your name is regal, one of refined virtue. It condones no disrespect. The manner in which you conduct yourself is intrinsic, speaking volumes for your namesake. Those you let close are deemed worthy of your presence. None are of a paltry sincerity. You make sure of that. Once I too was celebrated in those ranks but as time passed us by, your acceptance faltered, your countenance growing colder as my sincerity faded in response.
What I would give to have back the days before those treacherous moments abdicated your position in my heart.
What I would sacrifice in order to regain your favor.
My leader. My liege. My love.

Consequence

When I think of you and I think of you often. I think of your eyes, a deep brown that inspires visions of mahogany smoothness, a trunk that supports all those that get close enough, holding them up to the sun. Those eyes saw through me. You knew more of me than I could have configured on my own. If I needed to find myself, all I had to do was look into your eyes, windows to my own soul whereas yours was clouded in shadows and smoke. But when you smiled, you gave away parts of you I couldn’t accept, not at that point and now it may be too late to open my arms to that understanding. It may be too late. It is too late. You can no longer grace me with that smile, your lips permanently twisted in a scowl at the thought of my faults, my flaws, my incapacity to know myself.

Not everything is as it seems.
Sometimes you need to peel back the layers to uncover the truth.

(Source: itscolossal, via romanerol)