∇

[tenxxfold]

Honestly

I don’t even know what happened.

[nevver]

The End is in sight

[fffxhermitage]

Today was well spent.

[isawatree]

[powertoheal]

[thegardendiary]

Tea time, know your teas

[andrewtarcher]

[nevver]

Shogun Assassin, Andrew Archer

[nevver]

What we’re watching

[jakerockland]

[jakerockland]

[colormebadly-deactivated2014041]

Are we going to talk about the episode where the tubby toast machine malfunctions and spews tubby toast everywhere and these fuckers party like look at them your toast machine busted ass and you’re rolling around in smiley bread my entire life

[fffxhermitage]

Tiki F. Baby

[fffxhermitage]

I only miss her when im sober. Its not often.

[thewreckords]

Visit Original Link

Doprah // Do I Wanna Know (Arctic Monkeys cover)

[710mycologyexpert]

nasturtiums and cucumber(companion planting)

[ruralgirl]

[destinydiamante-deactivated2022]

mostly nature

[harveydigssabrina-deactivated20]

[eskopoet-deactivated20151202]

I choked on a metaphor. I tried to write a poem to say what I was thinking. I tried to write about that night as though it weren’t quite so symbolic, convincing myself jazz music was just music and lamplight was just fluorescent, tungsten if I’m feeling romantic, and that stumbling into your arms wasn’t a sign of something summer-like. But I was a poet before I could speak sentences and I fashioned finger paints from crushed sonnets, wringing out their color to test on parchment paper. This was my birthright. When I opened up my skin to see the inside I was looking for the cure to writer’s block and nothing more. I wasn’t ever one to worry about. I want to be the sane one, to say something about you that doesn’t turn me into walking symbolism. I want to stop enjambing my body to have time to press it into yours. But I’m stuck on a metaphor, dressed in villanelles and iambs. I’m dying of this disease.

"Portrait of the Poet as a Terminal Patient" by M.E.S. (via ecrivanity)