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Thoughts Virtually Spilled
Thoughts Virtually Spilled
Can - She Brings The Rain
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She Brings The Rain | Can

She brings the rain, it feels like spring, 
Magic mushrooms out of dreams, 
She brings the rain, 
Oh yeah, she brings the rain

My mother and I used to make these maraschino-cherry mice when I was a child. Now I’m making them with my favorite little one.


you know what’s fucked up?

that you can be without someone for six months, a year, five years and have mastered not thinking about them, but no matter how much time passes there will always be that moment where you see a photo of them or catch a little of their cologne on a crowed street and suddenly you’re plagued with a rapidly sinking stomach and the relentless question, “what did i do wrong?”

well fuck


a restaurant in my hometown got a review that said the servers should “show some skin” so the owner added a potato skin special to the menu and all the proceeds from the special go to the west virginia foundation for rape information services (x)

On our earth, before writing was invented, before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished.

That is why we know that poetry is like bread; it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity.

Pablo Neruda (via zenarchism)