363 plays



Pittsburgh with the intro All the others that say with intro I’ve seen don’t have it this does

so much better with the intro, why the album doesnt have it i’ll never know



Capturing the still and the making. The images of those who travel over seas and borders. Those that escape the confines of the place they call home. Not to run away from what they know but to run away to a place that is unknown. They flee here to find a new ‘me’. To locate a new ‘you’. It is here that the discover something different. Where they see a new reflection. Balancing on a fine line of new and different. It’s here they discover more and learn double. Escape the world you know. Make it work and you’ll be worthy.

(Source: originalmaixe)


Better off alone? Continually searching, finding wonderful things from afar. Staring at the things from a wish list. Finding attributes you can copy and paste. Finding the fantasies that you want acted out. Locating the moments you can create. Scrutinizing the situations that were not meant to be. Is it better off left alone or is it better to just stand here and gaze, unbeknownst forcefully unaware, completely oblivious and ignorant. Is it better? I hope it’s worse. Because what could be better than this?


So how exactly are we getting home today? Well we either walk here to the left or we take a right and walk that way. Which way would you like to go son? We haven’t much to choose from but we’ll have fun looking at all the sights along the way. So let me know. Left or right?

(Source: klaoss)


Peel my skin away, reveal the cracks that lay below. You see this wall and say its perfect, its chemistry a mastery of balance and equation. But behind this paint, behind this plaster, lays a broken shell of support. A damaged partition that holds no strength. Peel away each part of my covers, peel it off and throw it away. Show my flesh to the light of day, and let it rot in the darkest nights of dawn. Let it sprawl out in deathly demise. Let it wriggle and crawl to the edges of the earth. Let it whisper destruction and scream damnation. Let it sing you its perishing song and let it seduce you to suicide. Let my flesh reek of nothing more than silence, a purity of the end, and what is not to come. Let my flesh feel like sadness, as though mourning and grief could not beg enough. Let my flesh taste like bad memories and premonitions of the future that hold no hope. Let my flesh sound delicious to the mind, delicious to the soul, but fatal to the body. Let my flesh look as though it could be deemed pretty, beautiful and attractive, but be something else entirely like a mirror ready to be cracked. Peel my skin away to reveal my flesh, reveal all that lays below, so that I may lay here, 6 feet below you, sound and content. Peel my skin back, let me die here in peace.


i dreamt that life went on. i dreamt that you left me here. I dreamt that your heart stopped beating and your eyes stopped blinking. I dreamt that the world continued without you. I dreamt that i lived my days out empty and voided. I dreamt that i was a widow. I dreamt that i was alone. i dreamt a nightmare. But I dreamt a fallacy. i did not dream such pain. no. instead, i dreamt that i love you.


it saves the lives of hundreds every day. saving those people going through hell or just that one bad day. It cures the ailments of the depressed and the lonely, the forgotten and the damned. It forgets all past and future torture, and heals for just a few minutes. But in those few minutes, millions die from its effects. Its the greatest demon that ever existed. Tempt me oh Satan, you truly are a miracle worker.

(Source: the-little-monster)


Is it a chasm to your deepest and darkest fears? Or is it a corridor leading to your horrific and torturous demise? It’s up to you to take a step forward. To venture into the unknown. To take a leap of faith and trust your judgement. Trust your surroundings, your perspective and your initiative. Take that step. Go explore. It’s to die for

(Source: blue-mountain-abandoned)


"But daddy I want to go on the slide?" Said the little girl excitedly as she held on to her father’s hand, the other holding a picnic basket. They had been walking through the city that day awaiting lunch with her mother. It had been awhile since they had all gone out together. But life was getting busier and busier. He just didn’t need to see this place again. It brought back too many old memories. Memories he cherished. Memories he loved. But they were memories he could never get back.

"Sorry sweetie, but we can’t play here anymore", he replied to her, trying to pull his daughter away from this place. He hated having to pass by this playground. It was no more a place for play as a cemetery is place of happiness. Every time he passed by he felt the longing eyes pierce his heart as they fell away from his grasp.

 The hands he remembered were so warm, felt so blistering cold on his final touch, slipping from his grip as the man in the white coat shook his head no. It wasn’t that she couldn’t play here anymore, it was because he couldn’t. And it hurt to say no.

"Why not?" She replied so softly, so lovingly. His little girl wanted so badly to play, wanted so badly to feel alive like a child should. He could see her mother in her more everyday. The warming smile, the loving blue eyes. And her hair, blonde, slowly getting longer with every day. But he could not grant her wish, because he could not grant his own. This place was for families, they were only half.

"Because we’re not allowed to anymore", he said to her. It was all he could do to take her away. He crushed her dreams for one brief moment to protect her from it all. Protect her from the pain of real life. Protect her from the harsh realities. But it was really to protect himself. Just the sight of this joyous construction brought tears to his eyes. Heavy droplets that he fought back with all his strength to keep his daughter from noticing. It was all he could do to not break down and weep for his loss. But he held on for his daughter. He held on for his little girl. His last love.

"But it’s open?" She asked, wondering why it could not be. Wondering why her father would take it all away. They used to play here every Saturday. They were a family. She could not understand why it had to be this way. Why things had changed. She could not remember the first time she had seen her father, but she knew the last time she had seen her mother. She just didn’t understand why.

"I know sweetie, I know. Lets go see mummy", he replied as they made their way around the corner. Before them stood a simple gate to a small field of grass and stone. They stood there themselves before it’s entrance holding hands. He took a deep breath.

"Will mummy be here this time?"

"Yes she will", he lied as they entered the cemetery where her mother was buried. Where his wife was laid to rest. His little girl was still holding the picnic basket and she was still smiling. He was crying.

(via ivashkoff)


the mist travels, rolls and tumbles through the valley. It runs, jumps and skips across the land. It moves quickly, swiftly, silently in the air. But the mist can only move for so long. Can only travel for a few minutes. I only cover so much distance. The mist, like us must make the most of its time. It must live to its ultimate potential. It lives to die. but boy, does it live.

(Source: gollyblog)



Something average

it lies, average does little to cover. An understatement never had an example until now. We see the lights and the coloured buildings. The shimmering water and the dismal roadways. They all shine brightest when exposed longest. You press a button and wait the longest 30 seconds for a simple image. But by simply capturing such a moment you are truly capturing something incredible. A brief phase in time that will be there forever, no matter how simplistic its capture was. You have caged this moment up forever. It is yours to keep and to cherish. Love it like you love this city.


he stares. he’s not sure what he sees, but he knows it means something. he’s stared that way before, but not for a long time, not since the last time he fell in love…


Something I once knew, like a half-remembered dream

it was as though my life were like a dream. Unable to be grasped, unable to be realised, unable to be captured. Just a faint memory without a sense of whether it were real or not. 


"we have lived before, and we shall live again and again. We have slept before and shall sleep again. We’ve danced through the shallow pools and shall rejoice once again: to those who there is no hope. I say: Liars! Liars! Liars you are! Under the starry dancing stars, there is a land! Under the sin ribbed brothel, there is a land! And all this is the global world of the Pantocrator…"

"Tomorrow, you promise yourself, will be different, yet, tomorrow is too often a repetition of today. And you disappoint yourself again and again"

(via classytasha)

And everyday I’m with you I am blessed. But I am cursed. Because I ruin my hopes and dreams with the problems and hatred of today. My thoughts and my emotions betray my goals. They leave me bruised and battered. Broken and destroyed. Hopeless and filled with nightmares. And yet you seem to be able to always put me back together. Like the greatest crafter that ever lived. I still weep though. Because I am broken longer these days than I am fixed. I hate the time I live in because I cannot have you at every hour of every day. I curse myself because I am indeed cursed. I am poisoned and I am toxic. I am broken and I am dying. Revive me?

(via ivashkoff)

(Source: stxxz.us, via ivashkoff)