the irony
the irony
"At my funeral I do not want
doves or a bed of roses.
You know how much I hate roses, anyway.
Have my sister wear that outfit
she never had enough confidence
to wear
with those shoes that never
quite match with anything.
Hire a priest to give a sermon
about how he lost his virginity
or about the flat tire he got
on the way to his divorce court date.
Do not stifle your giggles
or feel guilty when you smile
at my uncle who is falling asleep
in the pew.
It’s okay to delight in unconventionality.
After the service,
I want you to hold hands with the person
you love the most and tell them
they need to use more hand lotion.
I want you to text your boyfriend
a poem that describes his
“shit brown eyes”
and how much you adore them.
On the way to the cemetery
blast The Ramones or anything
from Nirvana’s Incesticide album
and scream all the lyrics
incorrectly.
When my casket is lowered into the ground,
do not wipe your eyes or your nose.
Let the wind take away your mess.
When they begin to cover me with dirt
and flowers that pricked your fingers
with thorns,
whisper to my family about how you still
haven’t forgiven me for breaking your
favorite coffee mug.
Maybe you will feel uneasy,
or maybe your lips will tremble.
But as you exhale
and fill your lungs with dry air,
listen to me tap against
the wooden walls of my tomb
and let the rhythm guide the beating
of your heart.
It is okay now.
It will always be okay."
Kimberly Siehl | At my funeral it will be okay (via hangingwallflower)
powerful-art:

Laia Flynn
texasassy:

my two favorite things in one picture
pussy
weed
freckul:

☆ bambi/indie blog ☆
nicolezai:

This gave me butterflies
timelightbox:

Seaside Heights, N.J.: The Star Jet roller coaster at Casino Pier amusement park, once a Jersey Shore landmark, remains partly submerged in the Atlantic. (Photo: Stephen Wilkes for TIME)
After documenting the effects of Hurricane Sandy for TIME, photographer Stephen Wilkes took to the air to show the true extent of the storm’s impact. See more on LightBox.
"I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you’re going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you."
C. JoyBell C. (via observando)
werewolf-shadow:

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