January 2012
2011 is almost over. Ask/tell me something you've... →
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Kissing The Earth
smokeinatin:
It settles upon me - the dewy smell of rain I kiss droplets that fall upon my pale face
Hoping I consume the earth I’ve swallowed a glass full, I begin to float, as gravity takes toll on everything else
I end up with creations, from the earth itself
In the sky, I am a raincloud
red mango.
pilgrimsoulinme:
There were the lights lined up like poplars, guiding me through the jangling keys and missed voice messages inside bottles that never kept well inside the frost; I was lost—
But there were voices, inverse fingernails smearing pickled seeds against the craven wall, summer smells and semen in the tap water, and honeysuckles blew kisses at my belly, distended not, but ironed with...
Empty skins.
the-fiercest-fables:
My family is made of ghosts, skin blank canvases the colour of bone, and upturned for the world to paint. My mother is stained with suppressed ink, a rose curling up her ankle and a dragon on her neck. My father is like a tree, browned from youth and crinkling ever since. Matthew is flushed with permanent embarrassment, red riding in his cheeks at the palest moments....
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My mom wanted to watch The Empty Child.
;___;
Oh God…
I might have gotten Doodle addicted to catnip.
The box of catnip toys is still under the tree, and his favorite place to lay is right next to them or on top of them
He doesn’t play with them, he just likes laying there.
Woops.
December 2011
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My 2011 has been pretty wonderful though. Or, at...
Summer was kind of horrific.
Tonight I will be kissing my kitty cat at...
Not pathetic at all.
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"She was worth a stare. She was trouble.":... →
Another Indian summer. Wilted plants in the courtyard were starting to brown in their thirst, leaves curled in silent screams. The scent of dying jasmine and oleander lay heavy and thick. Everyone kept their windows open and fans buzzed and the powerlines crackled electric, in time with the…
Absolute perfection.
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ernstn replied to your post: My town’s liquor store’s drive thru is super busy….
liquor store drive through? …really?! I mean liquor store… drive through… i mean… i mean… REALLY!? A drive through for buying your booze!? haha
thelifeofmonticus replied to your post: My town’s liquor store’s drive thru is super busy….
….
I take it you two don’t have such things where you...
Oh my god. There are doctor who posters. All from 11’s series but… I can’t resist.
My town’s liquor store’s drive thru is super busy. =p
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hotpervymess replied to your post: It’s seven am. WHY ARE THERE CHILDREN PLAYING…
CHILDREN SHOULD BE PLAYING!! It’s their job!
NOT AT SEVEN IN THE MORNING!
It’s seven am. WHY ARE THERE CHILDREN PLAYING OUTSIDE?!
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in-hystero replied to your post: Why is my dash so dead?
It’s not that. Everybody just has something to do. Haha.. =D
I’m thinking that there was a tumblr party I didn’t get invited to.
Why is my dash so dead?
Why does everybody go to bed so early?
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katskradlexx:
I can put my hand on you And feel the mysteries of you Moving beneath my fingers Your pulse whispering your secrets Nurturing the flowers and the weeds The beautiful and the ugly The angels and the monsters But sometimes the magic escapes The confines of your body Tumbles from your lips Spills out of clever fingertips To entrance anyone that catches it
katskradlexx:
“Kiss me,” she said. And he grinned and leaned in close to do just that. But then her hand was on his chest, pushing him back gently as she scooted away from him. “No, not now. When we’re eighty. When we’re old and wrinkled and dying. When everything smells like mustard gas and roses. When we pass by mirrors and wonder who that hunched, decaying person is. Don’t kiss me now, kiss...
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I just saw the preview for Extremely Loud and...
That book is amazing.
The movie doesn’t look like it lives up to it.
King of Cunnilingus
high-delirium:
poorphraser:
I’m the king of cunnilingus.
I’m Lawrence of a labia.
I’m an invitation card – do you want to come?
.
I’m a shower head in human form.
An avid reader of clitorature.
The girls call me Santa Jaws
Cos every day is Christmas day
You won’t come once a year.
.
I’m like the band on the Titanic
No matter how wet it gets
I keep on playing
And like any good...
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Mumm-Ra - She’s Got You High
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So much unbaked cookie dough calling to me.
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4 tags
I can put my hand on you And feel the mysteries of you Moving beneath my fingers Your pulse whispering your secrets Nurturing the flowers and the weeds The beautiful and the ugly The angels and the monsters But sometimes the magic escapes The confines of your body Tumbles from your lips Spills out of clever fingertips To entrance anyone that catches it
2 tags
I'm so bored.
Fuck it. I’m going to bake.
Katherine is sexually frustrated.
That is all.
nidificate:
i purchased a lace dress, but i never wore it. i showed it to my lover, and he poured his wine all over it while i was reading a book. he said, “look, now you have a bit of color to your already impure heart”. i cried that night, and so did he, because my pain is his. silently, i packed every piece of myself away so that the red wine wouldn’t stain other parts of me. “i want to be...
The Top 101 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became An Evil...
Source: Peter Anspach
1. My Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear plexiglass visors, not face-concealing ones.
2. My ventilation ducts will be too small to crawl through.
3. My noble half-brother whose throne I usurped will be killed, not kept anonymously imprisoned in a forgotten cell of my dungeon.
4. Shooting is NOT too good for my enemies.
5. The artifact which is the source...
3 tags
“Kiss me,” she said. And he grinned and leaned in close to do just that. But then her hand was on his chest, pushing him back gently as she scooted away from him. “No, not now. When we’re eighty. When we’re old and wrinkled and dying. When everything smells like mustard gas and roses. When we pass by mirrors and wonder who that hunched, decaying person is. Don’t...
I Don't Want to Hold Your Hand
jscottgrand:
I don’t want to hold your hand or dry your tears with butterfly kisses.
I want to rewrite history with your cunt and carve our names on tender anxious thighs, sticky with come and menstrual blood.
I don’t want to brush your silken hair with careless whispers and the tired promises of boys. I want to wrench your hair in my fingers, to coil it around your neck until all the air is...
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Need. Car.
Need. Car. Need. Car. Need. Car.
perfection-wont-wait:
My wristsbones are wrapped in red ribbon with bone pressing through the plastic, daring to break it, warp it.
Warp me like a record left in the sun. Set me on the needle and listen to me scream.
