This photo is fucking exquisite.
(Source: youmightfindyourself, via lessgentlemen)
(via maxistentialist)
Photography by Kurt Arrigo
Circles
I hear words that lack speech,
I feel care that has no passion,
I see beauty bathed in wretchedness,
I smell peace doused in war,
I taste happiness controlled by sorrow.
What is is not, and what is not cannot be,
What I cannot understand I make sense of,
And what makes sense flings me into confusion.
The world spins, oh how the world spins,
Spinning, spinning, twirling as fast as it can,
like a merry-go round, and I’m holding on, holding,
gripping to the bars, closing my eyes, hoping
that I never fall off.
