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I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all.

Richard Wright, American Hunger, 1977 (via resaheart)
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there are 72 Tumblrites who want to read my erotica

and 30 Tumblrites who want to read my poems

and 17 Tumblrites who want to read my novel

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

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keyframe

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

n. a moment that felt innocuous at the time but ended up marking a diversion into a strange new era of your life—set in motion not by a series of jolting epiphanies but by the steady interpolation of tiny imperceptible differences between one ordinary day and the next, until entire years of your memory can be compressed into a handful of indelible images—which prevents you from rewinding the past, but allows you to move forward without endless buffering.

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Cunnilingus and psychiatry brought us to this.

Tony Soprano, The Sopranos (“I Dream of Jeannie Cusamano”)