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Relapsed stoner, tortured track runner and some sort of writer

12:29 pm  21,763 notes

vintagemickeymouse:

Funny Little Bunnies - 1934

(via vintagegal)

momentaneamentefuoriditesta:

Uma Thurman by  Ellen Von Unwerth

12:29 pm  2,839 notes

momentaneamentefuoriditesta:

Uma Thurman by  Ellen Von Unwerth

(via grabyourrocks)

i forgot i had this blog oops

12:27 pm  1 note

10:38 am  63,745 notes

(Source: sad-plath, via brxttxny)

raspberryrococo:

Pixies  |  Where is my Mind

(Source: raspboc, via honeysucculents)

10:38 am  3,682 notes

poorartists:

Paige Bradley created one of the most striking sculptures I’ve seen in recent times. Her masterpiece, entitled Expansion, is a beautiful woman seeking inner piece but fractured and bleeding with light. “From the moment we are born, the world tends to have a container already built for us to fit inside: a social security number, a gender, a race, a profession,” says Bradley. “I ponder if we are more defined by the container we are in than what we are inside. Would we recognize ourselves if we could expand beyond our bodies?”

10:37 am  317,419 notes

poorartists:

Paige Bradley created one of the most striking sculptures I’ve seen in recent times. Her masterpiece, entitled Expansion, is a beautiful woman seeking inner piece but fractured and bleeding with light. “From the moment we are born, the world tends to have a container already built for us to fit inside: a social security number, a gender, a race, a profession,” says Bradley. “I ponder if we are more defined by the container we are in than what we are inside. Would we recognize ourselves if we could expand beyond our bodies?”

(via brxttxny)

honeysucculents:

Kate moss’ ass

10:37 am  877 notes

honeysucculents:

Kate moss’ ass

(Source: smoketoash)

10:31 am  8,156 notes

(Source: anelimm, via m-inty)

10:30 am  9,322 notes

sad-foxes:

I shared some secrets that I’d hope you’d keep,

they’re words that don’t come out.

And I should have crashed the car,

the night I drove alone.

(via chanel-smokes)

10:28 am  45,077 notes

(Source: danielodowd, via chanel-smokes)

“Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is.”

— ― Albert Camus (via psych-quotes)

(via wetpoetry)

10:26 am  1,404 notes

10:23 am  230,977 notes

kurt-vonnegutted:

This is when it hurts.
You’re dancing with a girl you’ll probably
never see again and she’s
cold, but not like snow
more like
the way shower clouds always keep their distance from the bathroom floor
or how you wanted to go to Paris last summer
but you couldn’t afford a ticket.

You’re dancing with a girl you’ll probably
never fuck but
if you could tell her one thing it would be that
you’ll be gone when she wakes up
like when branches cough up children’s kites or
how all your idols committed suicide, 
sandcastles built halfway up the beach but the artist didn’t account for high tide.
It’s just rock plus water for more but
you always find yourself on empty shores -
tell me, do you know all the ways you can lose yourself?

Try steamy bathrooms sweating out self-love on scales or
thirty pills to a bottle counted out like a prison sentence.
How about ODing just to hear I love you,
how about cuts up the arms like a goddamn crosswalk straight to the hospital
but the only place it lands you is in trouble -
how about no new stars in the sky?
How about knowing nothing is eternal?
- and all your idols committing suicide.

You’re dancing with a girl you’ll probably 
never even talk to but your fingers are grabbing her ass and
you’re biting her shoulder like she’s not out of your league
and when you go home you’re still going to wonder why you always feel so fucking empty.
You’re back in bed and there’s no girl, no kiss, no butterflies,
but fuck all you’re asking for are caterpillars.

You’re dancing with a girl and
when she turns to grab her friend and leave
she won’t ask for your phone number,
will just walk out of the club and into sewer streets in platform heels
and toss back her long blonde hair like
god is eighteen and wears a bright red dress,
and maybe he is because when you get home you will
fall to your knees
and repent.

People don’t belong to people
but you’re losing someone new every week,
holding a funeral every time you go home empty handed
with only your nomad heart for company,
wrapping your arms around your depression and
letting it fuck you the way you imagined
the girl in the red dress would
if only you hadn’t opened your mouth
to speak.

You’re dancing with a girl and
she smells the sadness on you and
she doesn’t want to dance anymore.
This is when you call me.
This is when I pick up.
We will sit on my front porch and think of all the ways we have fucked up.
We will sit on my front porch and think of all the ways we have ruined love.

We will spin vagabond daydreams like cotton candy 
and count all the reasons why you’re sad
until none of it matters anymore.
The way time flows dead on a Sunday.
How you never liked to smoke the way I did.
The way you painted your room robins egg blue
in memoriam for all the wings you clipped
and all the things you never did.
The girls you didn’t have the guts to ask to dance.

(Source: benzodiazeplease)

10:23 am  276 notes

This Is Not A Love Story

strangers-approval:

December 10 2012
You appear to me as in a dream.
Ice christened eyelashes, frostbitten tongue:
you were a Spanish god trapped in winter.

March 6 2013
It occurs to me one day in class
that I would fuck you in a heartbeat.

May 11 2013
I steal you from your prom date and kiss you on the dance floor:
Moments peach ripe between electric skin

May 27 2013
"What does it say about me," you ask me slowly,
"That your mom isn’t home and I won’t do anything but kiss you?"
I call you a pussy
and write my first poem about you the next day.

June 25 2013:
Recipe for a coward: coal for organs, four shots gin
You tell me you don’t believe a word I said
(I think I made it up inside my head)

July 10 2013
Our bodies touched like moths and light
Who broke the silence?
Who broke the night?

August 15 2013
I take thirty-six pills and call you drunk from the bathroom
You ride your bike to see me and take me swimming
I decide I love you again

August 28 2013
You pick up the phone at your uncle’s house.
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
"I fucked someone else."

September 29 2013
You walk inside. The orchestras pass.
I should have kissed you first. I should have kissed you last.

October 8 2013
My mind a flashback of the summer
Dandelion start, heartbreak deep to crack your spine
When I told you that I needed you - if not full truth, then is it lie?

October 29 2013
I try to wake up on the right side of the bed
Your ghost is still sleeping there

October 31 2013
I wake up swollen instead,
sorrow’s mistress, red rivers carved in place of veins
The doctor’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he says
You’re lucky they found you when they did
You’re the first one I want to call

November 28 2013
Not love, then, cried the wolf to the sheep
But obsession, but lust, but something desperate deep
Like night sky black but there’s only blue in the box
Like white crayons and cracked eggs and post dryer socks
Like wanting something for months and coming home to it one day
Like wanting frantic, wanting fever, night terrors, early day
Hands and chest and hair and bones
Angels kissing
Arms my own
Nothing you can name in any language they teach at school
Nothing you can read except in your soul
(You don’t want me back though)

December 1 2013
The ache in my chest won’t stop till I’m dead
I think I made you up inside my head

December 5 2013
I tell you I’m scared I’m not getting better
You tell me there’s nothing wrong with me to begin with.

December 12 2013
The sun is going to spin off course /
And then we are going to die /
The sky will burn and earth will roast /
But until then keep me in mind.

(Source: benzodiazeplease)

7:51 pm  183 notes

7:50 pm  46,162 notes

(via infinifi)

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