humansofnewyork:

Of course, I prompted him by suggesting a poem entitled “Humans of New York:”

those zombies are masked
konkrete jungle burns
I like to dabble
in such varied colors

eyes are blinding
when stares go for days
unbecoming dreamers
are likely to lose it when trains run late

so it is to ramble
and forget our friend time
startled over letting go
madness in the big city

leafreitas:

“She does not know
Her beauty,
She thinks her brown body
Has no glory.
If she could dance
Naked,
Under palm trees
And see her image in the river
She would know.
But there are no palm trees
On the street,
And dishwater gives back no images.”

Nina Simone 

By me :) (madlove.tumblr.com)
Randomly came up with this at work.
Hardly working at work lol