slow like honey

Sadie; I am jazz, a rose garden and love lover, creator, healer in love with the moon. ☼ Taurus/ ☾ Leo

[dngmil]

[purematte]

[pricebullington]

Jean-Michel Basquiat

[oldbooklover]

[metaphorformetaphor]

be with me in the sacred witchery of almostness which May makes follow soon

E.E. Cummings, from “Songs,” Tulips and Chimneys (Liveright, 1923)

[miss-hiphop]

[artsnquotes]

The most important thing to develop in human beings is a sense of love, and an understanding of unconditional love. I’m not talking about the love towards a specific person, but love in a general sense; for life, for the planet, for purely existing.

Marina Abramović  (via wordsnquotes)

[fkatwigs-fashionstyle]

[amare-habeo]

Jean-Michel Basquiat (American, 1960 – 1988)

Jazz, 1986

Acrylic, chalk and collage on panel, 127 x 92 x 21.5 cm

[8756453424354657-deactivated201]

a girl whos tummy is sore because she ate dairy: is a bit quiet a guy:She was perfect, pure maddening sex, and she knew it, and she played on it, dripped it, and allowed you to suffer for it

[octopussoir-]

[kdfoewoalx-deactivated20180205]

https://instagram.com/p/BEb768Os1w0/

[amandajas]

[atomsoftherose-blog]

My mother visited me in my dream last night..

[katie-scott-blog]

New: Floating Terrariums 

[anancientheart]

You rain on me - I sky you… I hand you my universe and you live me. It is you whom I love today. I love you with all my loves. I’ll give you the forest with a little house in it with all the good things there are in my construction, you’ll live joyfully - I want you to live joyfully.

Frida Kahlo, from The Diary of Frida Kahlo  (via videsi)

[inkskinned]

the thing is, somebody cares. i know your best friend seems really busy all the time and is shit at texting but she still loves you and she talks to you more than she talks to anyone else and you’re the only breath of calm she has on this planet. the boy in your science class loves seeing what music you’re listening to on your headphones - he has the same taste and wishes he had the nerve to ask you about it. your english teacher loves the insight you have on your papers. somebody cares. the person who lives down the street from you notices when you are sick because they don’t see you stomping your way to the schoolbus - it’s how they know it’s time to get their breakfast ready. somebody is looking for you at the party, even if they don’t know they’re really looking for you - but when you don’t show up, some part of them is disappointed. somebody is looking for you in the library, in the spot where you eat lunch, in front of that one step you always seem to trip on. i know your parents are a complicated mess and there’s drama between your friends and your love life is sort of shaped like a constant question and everybody seems all caught up in their own lives and their own happiness and nobody really notices: but somebody always does. every face in your dreams is someone you have met, and that means that you are in a million’s stranger’s heads. they see you when they go to bed. and somebody cares. somebody still thinks about you even though you were just a person with a nice outfit or good eyeliner or a great smile or because you were having one of those moments that are so charmingly human in nature or because they regret not asking if you needed help when you fell or because they wonder what you were thinking about or drawing or writing or just because you’re alive, and that makes you fascinating. somebody cares. when you were on break from work and saw a dog hanging his head out of the car and suddenly broke into a smile: there was a girl in the back of that car, and I was her, and I still think about you, and i hope you get more chances to smile like that. and there is you, sitting here reading this, and by some small extension, meeting me, and i am telling you, I care. somebody always does. i promise. i promise. you are loved.