Artwork by Aalma do Luar (Aalma’s Artville)
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Three Goblin Art
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

oozey mess
art blog(derogatory)

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
sheepfilms
Stranger Things

@theartofmadeline
RMH

Product Placement
todays bird
Acquired Stardust
No title available
dirt enthusiast

Love Begins
Game of Thrones Daily

shark vs the universe
h

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seen from United States
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seen from France
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seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany
seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from Spain

seen from United States
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seen from Paraguay
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@dread-adumbration
Artwork by Aalma do Luar (Aalma’s Artville)
If you grow a forest in your pain, it will forever lie in rotten leaves. The rain will turn sour as the ashen earth snaps its teeth, and the roots of the tallest trees will shrink from the salt in which they are set. Find your shovel amongst the weeds and dig once more– dig through clay and stone and pain until you are at the seed that started it all– and give it love. Give it kindness. Plant it in soft soil and forgive its false springs and withered stalks; it grows in new earth now. Someday its branches will kiss the clouds and taste sweet summer rain; for now, you do not need a forest. You only need time.
moss’s maw opens wide– the earth is not a picky eater. it will take you all. consumption, regardless.
Stop running from the storms, my friend. Sweep violent as a hurricane and soft as the summer rain, driving as slanted glass-shard-drops and patient as the dew waiting for dawn. Dance as lightning crackles on your skin and rain beads on your brow. Break lake-banks, eating up land beneath your waves like some gnawing, clawing sea-beast, translucent and wild with liberty. Rage for the storm, weep for the rain, and there will be no sun to keep you tamed.
Tilt back your head and let open your mouth, set free all that creeps inside. Climb, vines, between canine and cranny and curl. Seethe, moss, dripping lace down past your lips– levy, roots, latticed, sprawling, deeper than your feet have the courage to travel. Bare your teeth. force them to bear your truth.
you see, you must bite your gods. don't get yourself a god you can't bite. maybe some that you shouldn't, yes, but otherwise you ought to have gods you can bite. and bite.
and then you must know what you're biting them for and what you expect.
some gods you bite and they'll bite you back, which is good. some gods you bite and it'll sharpen your teeth, and that is good as well. some gods you bite and you'll devour them instead and that is good, as well, again.
some gods you bite and it's a reward, and some you'll bite as penance, some as communion, some as sex, some as simple curiosity. some you bite and they break your teeth or tame you, and you must ask yourself whether this is what you desire.
but you must bite your gods.
we need famine, we tell ourselves, to learn to love the feast; but when floods come to wet parched tongues, we drown in what we seek.
Helaena C Moon @ http://hapless-hollow.tumblr.com/
https://pin.it/6G5P1vw
Black witches in the bayou…🔮🐊🕯✨
“Black, my mouth is full of black - and I can not speak. Monsters come at night, they come to steal my sleep. Crooked things live in my bones. And every demon I hear laugh, never laughs alone.”
— Helaena C Moon @ http://hapless-hollow.tumblr.com/