all boundaries are conventions.

[everythingfox]

This is so cute

[pisswallet]

Take the baby love the baby keep the baby

[uncle-beanbag]

I love the cat communal instinct for raising kittens.

[go-drink-the-kool-aid-deactivat]

[supreme-leader-stoat]

Cats will see a baby and go "is anyone gonna adopt that?" and not wait for an answer.

[drugstoreperfumemp3]

“Take a body, dump it, drive. Take a body, maybe your own, and dump it gently. All your dead, unfinished selves and dump them gently.”

— Richard Siken, from ‘Birds Hover the Trampled Field’, War of the Foxes (via soracities)

[tristamateer]

“I still write poems for you the same way other people bring flowers to graves.”

— Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)

[tristamateer]

“I’m in love with my anger / my war-won body / tense and vicious.”

— Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“I looked for love in things that were not love.”

— Florence Welch, referring to what inspired her to write the song “Hunger,”

[millennial-review-deactivated20]

[the-suburb-vibes]

gang gang

[worshipgifs]

Ursula K. Le Guin

[90377]

Pogórze Ciężkowicko-Rożnowskie, Kąśna Dolna, Poland by Piotr Ramijan

[chuwenjie]

The subscription cover I did for issue 11 of the official Steven Universe comic is now available! It was so cool to make something for one of my favorite shows!!

[wonderswoman]

For the first time in 60 years, the top three box office movies are female-led.

[hunrry]

[latenightcornerstore]

Under your hands, I bloom into ache– and heat and want. And heavy breath and mouth and mouth and mouth. I melt, all syrup on your fingers. You could almost spin me into candy floss, except for this weight on your hips: this body and how it buckles for your body.

SPUN SUGAR by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

[fellinlovewithmelancholy]

i glow the way unwanted things do, a neon sign that reads; come, i still taste like someone else’s mouth.

Warsan Shire (via fellinlovewithmelancholy)

[backshelfpoet]

You love her like you’re only just learning to breathe. I think if Zeus were on the prowl for a new girl’s heart to break, she’d be the first to fall prey. She, like Helen of Troy, has a beauty like the new honeybees of rain-drenched spring. She’s got a heart like rubbing alcohol, like cleaning fluid, & it’s better not to touch it. She doesn’t do much, sits by the phone decaying for want of you. She rots & startles herself with her anger. She is not gentle nor kind, but a serpent hiding in Eve’s most sacred garden. She doesn’t even know that it isn’t the right place for her. She is not law; she is religion. She is tearing me at the seams for want of something more & it’s bloody & painful & all worth it for her smile. She’s hungry & split-lip sullen. She loves you because she’s reckless — she loves you because she doesn’t know any better.

Leda | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

This poem is now available in my book This is The Story of How We Fell in Love

(via backshelfpoet)

[purplebuddhaproject]

[subtlecluster]

Grief, I’ve learned, is really love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot give. The more you loved someone, the more you grieve. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes and in that part of your chest that gets empty and hollow feeling. The happiness of love turns to sadness when unspent. Grief is just love with no place to go.

As the lights wink out…  (via wethinkwedream)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Here it is then, the dark thing, the dark thing you have waited for so long.

Margaret Atwood, from Morning in the Burned House: Poems; “Waiting,” (via lyrasoxford)