I hate myself.
"He would wake from sleep to miss the weight that never depressed the bed next to him, remember in earnest the weight of gestures she never made, long for the un-weight of her un-arm slung over his too real chest."
Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated (via larmoyante)
“Sports Illustrated”: Photographed by Paulo Sutch for Dazed and Confused, May 1997
I am the whore of Babylon! by Rachael Edge
Printed and looking good. I had this first verse hanging around for a while, finally got it into a bigger poem