#rap

The sun is high and I’m surrounded by sand. For as far as my eyes can see I’m strapped into a rocking chair With a blanket over my knees I am a stranger to myself And nobody knows I’m here When I looked into my face It wasn’t myself I’d seen But who I’ve tried to be. I’m thinking of things I’d hoped to forget. I’m choking to death in a sun that never sets. I clugged up my mind with perpetual grief And turned all my friends into enemies And now that past has returned to haunt me. I’M SCARED OF GOD AND SCARED OF HELL AND I’M CAVING IN UPON MYSELF HOW CAN ANYONE KNOW ME WHEN I DON’T EVEN KNOW MYSELF ↗

— José Ángel Mañas

#death

After I’m dead, I want to ghostwrite my autobiography. 
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#dead #death #ghostwrite #supernatural #death

Of all the ways I had imagined my death, getting beaten by my zombified mentor while trapped by a cannibalistic window handle wasn’t one of them ↗

— Anton Strout

#trapped #death

Around, around the sun we go, the moon goes 'round the earth, we do not die of death - we die of vertigo. ↗

— James O'Barr

#graphic-novels #james-o-barr #the-crow #death

There is no way I am masturbating with a gringo to something as vile and disgusting as worm-rape! ↗

— Vince Kramer

#gringo #sex #worm-rape #death

Writing is 1 percent inspiration, and 99 percent elimination. ↗

— Louise Brooks

#on-writing #paraphrased #inspirational

For Death must be somewhere in a society; if it is no longer (or less intensely) in religion, it must be elsewhere; perhaps in this image which produces Death while trying to preserve life. Contemporary with the withdrawal of rites, Photography may correspond to the intrusion, in our modern society, of an asymbolic Death, outside of religion, outside of ritual, a kind of abrupt dive into literal Death. ↗

— Roland Barthes

#death

When a man no longer confuses himself with the definition of himself that others have given him, he is at once universal and unique. He is universal by virtue of the inseparability of his organism from the cosmos. He is unique in that he is just this organism and not any stereotype of role, class, or identity assumed for the convenience of social communication. ↗

— Alan Watts

#communication

If the mystery can be reduced to one solution, it lies in a simple coincidence: Rimbaud's interest in his own work had survived the realization that the world would not be changed by verbal innovation. It did not survive the failure of all his adult relationships. He had always treated poems as a form of private communication. He gave his songs to chansonniers, his satires to satirists. Without a constant companion, he was writing in a void. ↗

— Graham Robb

#writing #change

The secret to modeling is not being perfect. What one needs is a face that people can identify in a second. You have to be given what’s needed by nature, and what’s needed is to bring something new. ↗

— Karl Lagerfeld

#bring #chanel #designer #face #fashion