I was never good at those trust games. You know, the ones where your friend stands some distance behind you and you let yourself fall backwards into their arms? Yeah, I was never that kind of kid. I would offer to catch other people, sure, but never was I the one left to be caught. It seems so illogical. I never saw someone let another person just fall to the ground, and I always found it strange...
katskradlexx: One day I will meet you A pure, perfect piece of me A fragment of my heart Embodied in you Tiny, vital you I will show you mountaintops And beflowered valleys Magenta sunsets And crisp, clear sunrises Stars fading into the blue I will give you the world Its tastes, its sounds Its pulsing heartbeats You will know exotic fairytales And dream in vivid colors Your delicate soul...
penandwind asked: What is the most improbable thing that has ever happened to you?
dirtyoldsixofclubs asked: What makes this writer write?
penandwind asked: Who's the poet who won't cop out, when there's danger all about?
My ask box is open. →
For extra awesomeness points, you could only ask questions that begin with a W since it’s Wednesday.
Thank you autocorrect for shoving Faulkner into that.
So so so tired.
Must not fall asleep. Must not fall asleep. Write, don’t sleep. Write, don’t sleep.
There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the...– The death of Ophelia
step one: take out homework
step two: reward self with two hours of internet for getting that far
We met in a sticky summer, flushed with heat and nerves and the anticipation of electricity we’d long been denied. Her lips were pink and wet and tasted like perfect peaches. A dip into cool sweetness, refreshing given the dizzying heat and the way the smell of her hair made my head swim. Clothes in a pile on the floor and my hands tracing her curves. Windows open, without a care for those...
Well I just sat through a Board of Ed meeting about something called the “Charlie Rape Gang.” Google that shit. What the fuck. I can’t believe this is real and only a couple miles away from me. What the fuck is wrong with people?
secretedsins: The tide ebbs, and flows, but the blindest of fools knows the ocean remains. Such is love.
Calculus makes me want to cry.
My fave flower on QI.
Little things like this make me happy. Series F, Episode 10. Camellias. =)
Al gone. Kat sad.
One day I will meet you A pure, perfect piece of me A fragment of my heart Embodied in you Tiny, vital you I will show you mountaintops And beflowered valleys Magenta sunsets And crisp, clear sunrises Stars fading into the blue I will give you the world Its tastes, its sounds Its pulsing heartbeats You will know exotic fairytales And dream in vivid colors Your delicate soul Will be soft and...
The Missing piece meets Big O. →
elysedevor: I love this so much. Shel Silverstein is amazing. He also makes up about 90% of my childhood. LOVE. This is perfect.
I like seeing Nature take back what was hers. Weeds that grow through cracks in concrete, ivy that wraps around stop signs and light poles, kudzu that overtakes abandoned cars and old houses until it is simply an oddly shaped pile of leaves. There is some comfort in knowing that our marks on the planet are only temporary. Keeps our egos in check. Of course we can build monoliths us steel and...
clintirwin: It is a track on a wave, a roller coaster with a range of possibility between being stopped dead, hanging helpless on a loop, and arriving back where you started, absolved by adrenaline, a kid again. Even in the best of outcomes, you still have to get back in line. Each time, fewer and fewer of the people you came with get back on with you. Pretty soon, it is on to a different ride.
I'm realizing that I may have an unhealthy...
My car has a mustache, my car keys have a mustache, and my man has the most epic mustache that has ever graced someone’s face.
I’ll tell you a secret. Something they don’t teach you in your temple. The Gods...– Achilles, Troy (2004)
For some strange reason I feel pretty today even though my hair is all messed up and I have no makeup on and I’m chilling in some ripped up sweatpants.
cordeliawrites: She was cardamom and corduroy. Her cheeks, aged burgundy staining parchment skin, stretched like the silence that lingers a little too long in close quarters. She was accustomed to crossing her knees in foyers, quietting her unholy fingers—prone to flutter across dusted sunlight—in parlors and settees, pews and other wooden boxes. She guarded against pursing her lips, lest she...
I'm tired and bored and ugh.
secretedsins: So often, I dream of these wicked things that I wish to do to you. But, I know that I shouldn’t; more, I can’t - So, inevitably, I do.
zannus: I swear it was in the February thunder that I heard, moored, variations of a future’s breath. It sang to me in sighs and ante- bellum threats against singularity. Audience to nature, agreement advanced, whistled, tongue- tied up in violin concertos, chance, and my girl’s quicksilver lightning. I swear it thundered in February. Ask my future, she knows first- hands. I’ve given...
Afternoon naps The rain pounds on the window Your fingers down my spine Even breaths lulling me to peace And legs fitting into each other These perfect moments If only they could be Bottles and saved But I suppose I’d rather live them With you
girlbrokendown replied to your chat: This conversation actually happened verbatim in economics class. Wow, is that the same idiot from last time? Oh yes. It drives me crazy because people who don’t know him adore him and I wish they could see how much of a dick he is. I mean, it’s actually frightening. One time I was walking near him in the hall and this kid shouted to him,...
This conversation actually happened verbatim in...
Teacher: Well you can't punish someone for being successful, right? Encouraging success is what America's about.
Douchebag: Well not anymore. Not with the rich being taxed so much.