you, yes you

my blood line is the santa ana winds

Sun, 19 May 2013 13:01:03 -0400

she’s two decades old,
in terms of vineyards and wine
she is full bodied and mature enough to
pop open and enjoy.
but like all red wines she will leave stains if
spilled,
long royal fingers marring grace
on that white crisp oxford.

it seems to be in my nature;
this italian way.
hotblooded and loud mouthed
with hands that spar like antlers
and eyes burning away like
carving knives tracing necks.

so you're like a poet right?

Sat, 18 May 2013 22:09:06 -0400

Yeah. More or less dude.

i collect

Sat, 18 May 2013 13:14:36 -0400

i grew up in a city tinged with cicadas
and their blinking wings.
where everything had the hint of german blood
flowing through it.
old churches
all gothic and brightly blonde;
with names like eden
and mount adams.

and with our city’s glassy-eyed sky
all of us sear with summertime heat
giant trapped bugs on our bellies
squirming our limbs splayed out
looking for all the world like swimmers.
with the pushing, thrusting, beg
but steadily stuck for the taking.

selenic

Sat, 18 May 2013 13:01:36 -0400

“but what if it doesn’t?”
i find my drowsy lips asking you.
“but what if the moon is only the worst thing that’s ever happened to the sun?”

what if the sun never wanted to shed his
blue sky-skin?
and only ever is wishing for Orion’s arrows
to fire at the rising skull of moon,
so he could shoot her down
dead.

because the sun might be a greedy god,
hungry only for his only light.
and not the pilfered pale shine
of another.

i ask you all of these with my clumsy mouth.
and you do not respond.
because the answer is simple, and doesn’t need
to be stated.
that star, bled its light
alone in space for a billion years
before she came.
the only one who would raise her face
and shine back at him.

tehartmonkey: thesulfurandthesea: sometimes I get frustrated because you can’t put numbers in...

Sat, 18 May 2013 11:17:28 -0400

tehartmonkey:

thesulfurandthesea:

sometimes I get frustrated because you can’t put numbers in caps

12

am I screaming?

you’ll never know

TWELVE

DON’T BE A LAZY SHIT

Sexually frustrated Juno on Skype. He’s gonna kill me for...

Fri, 17 May 2013 21:44:08 -0400

Sexually frustrated Juno on Skype. He’s gonna kill me for this shit…

BUT HEs SO FUCKING ADORABLE THO IDGAF

extreme makeover: home edition

Fri, 17 May 2013 20:59:28 -0400

girl: i kinda like horses
ty: WE MADE YOUR ROOM INTO A HORSE AND DECORATED IT WITH HORSES AND HERE WE GOT YOU 3 PET HORSES AND WE ARE PAYING FOR SURGERY TO MAKE YOU A HORSE

anusking: hot things to say during sex: Abraham Lincoln meme harder mitochondria let’s watch...

Fri, 17 May 2013 20:57:15 -0400

anusking:

hot things to say during sex:

Abraham Lincoln

meme harder

mitochondria

let’s watch icarly

why didn’t you reblog that post I made

WARMACHINEROX

Photo

Fri, 17 May 2013 20:57:05 -0400

the hospital was named "the linder center for hope"

Thu, 16 May 2013 20:40:00 -0400

and even the silly long-necked doctors
with their swan-white coats and sleeves
all nod and agree
that my tiny-boned baby teeth
should un-clench
and free my fleshy tongue.

stick the love muscle out between
wet gums,
where it will wait patiently to receive
the little yellow-eyed baby blue pills.
slickly sliding down my throat
eager to take
and swallow sugar for normalcy’s sake.

fuck the cuckoo’s nest
i’ll sew my lips shut after they spill seeds of this truth,
that the hospital full of ropes and razor shadows,
is the only place i’ve found my body
so diseased
able to finally find sleep enough,
to let this mind rest like the dead.

shmegel: voodooish: shadowgentleman: Being part of a fandom but not really caring about the show...

Thu, 16 May 2013 12:18:18 -0400

shmegel:

voodooish:

shadowgentleman:

Being part of a fandom but not really caring about the show anymore

Being into a show where it’s fandom has already died off

Being in a cinema full of skeletons

dalailamaofficial: have you ever thought about the fact that like 6 people died because romeo...

Thu, 16 May 2013 12:09:19 -0400

dalailamaofficial:

have you ever thought about the fact that like 6 people died because romeo couldn’t control his dick

Photo

Thu, 16 May 2013 12:08:45 -0400

like i dont wanna do stuff but i have to do stuff

Mon, 13 May 2013 15:28:09 -0400

like i dont wanna do stuff but i have to do stuff

methlabrador: ???????? COMIC SANS THO

Mon, 13 May 2013 15:12:23 -0400

methlabrador:

????????

COMIC SANS THO

"Eye contact: how souls catch fire."

Mon, 13 May 2013 14:17:31 -0400

“Eye contact: how souls catch fire.”

- Yahia Lababidi, from “Aphorisms” (via maza-dohta)

in the garden

Sun, 12 May 2013 21:34:00 -0400

i have the feeling i’m nothing but
pink worms and pulpy flesh where there should
be steadier structures in my body’s parts.

because i believe
it’s more about swaying with the wind
and the sea of time that is moving always,
and less about staying sturdy like a home.
like the way the devil’s neck bends
while thick bones and beams snap.

my life could be a weed,
because i have strength but it’s cheap. it’s
only because i can choke whatever i touch,
would push violent fingers
down upon windpipes
if i chose to.
and since i threaten gallows,
i am avoided by most.
my small seeds hitchhiking on breathless
highways.
so while better and stronger have died
i still survive.

oh my god my tumblr babies i have missed you so much

Sun, 12 May 2013 20:57:02 -0400

LIFE OUTSIDE OF HERE IS AWFUL AND STUPID AND I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE EVER AGAIN I PROMISE

Spider-Man with dredlocks is on my shirt. Why? Because...

Sun, 12 May 2013 20:28:27 -0400

Spider-Man with dredlocks is on my shirt. Why?

Because he’s spiderMON.

another correspondence

Mon, 06 May 2013 10:42:00 -0400

my stomach burns and twists when i think of
what i will do to you while you’re here.
and in return,
what you’ll do to me.

when i was little,
i used to sew and stitch together the pink dusty buds of clover-flowers.
they became haphazard necklaces
and crowns
and once a pretend wedding ring.
i’ve begun doing so again.
worked my fingers’ bones into making matching bracelets
dried and forgotten white.

it’s all i’ll have to offer as a birthday gift to you,
but i think it will be enough if i give you my lips (and hips) with it too.

the black-coal sugar of moonlight
pours like milk over your spine and collar bones,
and i allow myself to be hanged from their precipices.
if i could, i would weave for you a dream catcher.
i have a pair of wild hawk feathers
i found once in the mountains.

and i dreamed last night that you where there
with me
in the sunshine state.
and i was stretching canvases for you.
hewing their soft pale wood into
tibia-bone lines.
and the skin of vellum
i carefully tucked under each and every side.
you wanted to paint,
and i wanted to give.

and the ocean in the background wanted to sing and roar,
and so it did.