Screw A levels, I’m gonna be like Jeff from Community and get a fake degree and become a lawyer who’ll work for top law firms. Until I get found out and forced to go to community college and make 5 new best friends who’ll be my study group.
Yup, got my life sorted out.
(Source: campbasement)
Whenever someone from English lit who doesn’t read goes on and on about a book. I want to punch them, it’s an exam text buddy, you didn’t read it yourself.
old sport
old sport
old sport
old sport
old sport
old sport
old
sporta poem by jay gatsby
At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.
— Alberto Manguel (via thelifeofabookjunky)
i never really liked
my name
much
until i found out
what it tastes like
when you sigh it
into my
mouth
This..
(Source: oceanicforest)
(Source: missnikki94)
Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I’m not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you’ve felt that way.
— Charles Bukowski (via belovedgentleman)
I am not like
other people.
I am
burning in hell. the hell of
myself.
— charles bukowski (via friedgreentomato)
in that drunken place
you would
like to hand your heart to her
and say
touch it
but then
give it back
— Charles Bukowski (via the3rd-planet)
too much too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody.laughter or
tearshaters
loversstrangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacksarmies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clockpeople so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.people just are not good to each other
one on one.the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.we are afraid.
our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winnersit hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.or the terror of one person
aching in one place
aloneuntouched
unspoken towatering a plant.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.I suppose they never will be.
I don’t ask them to be.but sometimes I think about
it.the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.too much
too littletoo fat
too thin
or nobodymore haters than lovers.
people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.there must be a way.
surely there must be a way that we have not yet
thought of.who put this brain inside of me?
it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.it will not say
“no.”
— Charles Bukowski, The Crunch (via whatthefuckingexcellent)
