I was a Sparrow...

Chia like, I shall grow. My name is Natalee. "Please know that I am with you, as we share the same blood." This blog contains brief nudity, drug use, adult situations, and disco lights. Parental guidance is suggested

[lifeinpoetry]

I once wrote:

                          I could no longer / disappear

But I still do /

But I still / won’t

— Carrie Lorig, from “The Blood Barn,” published in DREGINALD

[latenightcornerstore]

Picture: an unmarked grave. A buried sweetness. The sugared-honey, blackberry syrup of me now six feet under with all my reckless loving. Please. I just wanna be soft again.   I’ve got a strong jaw. I can take a few punches, but I’m sick of all the swinging— You know, I didn’t used to be like this. But I was just a stupid kid, looking to stop the hurting: thirteen when I coughed up a powderpuff instead of a lung and mistook the thing for weakness. Spent the next six years swallowing splinters and spitting up grenadine. Came out the backside of nineteen looking like a gunfight and a fistful of teeth. Hit twenty like a body on the wrong side of starving: heart too hungry to eat.   I stowed away softness under my bed, so I could pretend I had a suspension bridge instead of a skeleton. Now listen, I can backtrack through the trenches, play hopscotch or pick-up-sticks with landmines and drunken dreams, but I can’t dig up the kid who thought love would always be a two-way street. What if— what if I can’t distill the honey from the whiskey ‘cause there ain’t no honey left in me?

HUCKLEBERRY HONEY, by Ashe Vernon

(from the book Wrong Side of a Fistfight)

[cheyennecheyenne]

women are socialized to be so accommodating of others and you don’t even realize it until you’re already in the middle of some elaborate favor for someone and you’re wondering what the fuck you’re even doing

[aurol]

i think i accidentally break my own heart a lot

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I’ve found a prisoner’s letters to a lover. / One begins: These words may never reach you. / ends: The skin dissolves in dew without your touch.

Agha Shahid Ali, from The Veiled Suite: The Collected Poems; “The Country Without A Post-Office,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[islandnaturals]

💛 #blackgold #blackgirlmagic #naturalqueen #blackqueens #naturalhairinspiration #naturalhair #naturalista #curls #kinks #coils #afro #teamnatural #twa #AfricanHair #texture #bigchop #twistout #kinkycoilyhair #healthyhair #afrotexturedhair #blackbeauty #naturalbeauty #naturalhairjourney #naturalcommunity #naturalcrown #blackisbeautiful #afrokinky #melanin #caribbeanNaturals #IslandNaturals

[handsomedogs]

Handsomedogs’ Photography Contest X 🌷 ROUND 3

Here is your third and final round of photos for this month’s photography contest! Remember, the theme is Spring/Easter.

After we gather the votes for this round, I will compile the top 10 out of all three rounds for you to vote for the #1 winner.

Which Image Should be in Handsomedogs’ Photography Contest Finals? (click to vote! https://goo.gl/lRWnhF)

REBLOGS & MESSAGES WILL NOT COUNT!

[naturalhair]

Instagram: @iamkimberlyt

[naturalhair]

Hello I wanted to share my #locbuns

[stillbirthed]

excerpt fr. Hatred of Women, Cassandra Troyen

[latenightcornerstore]

When I was kid, my father said Hell was a great feast. He said the people at the table had these long arms with no elbows, and they were trying to feed themselves and they were starving. He said Heaven was a great feast, too. He said the people at the table had these long arms with no elbows, and they were feeding each other and they were full. I think this was supposed to be a story about selfishness or about how Hell is self-inflicted, but I think it’s a story of short-sightedness. I think it’s about how circumstances do not define us, but we’ve got to look past our elbowless arms, or we’re going to keep starving our way through this.

A SHOT IN THE DARK, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

[tristamateer]

There’s a yellow dress and I’m not in it anymore. Does that come before or after the bad rosé? The first bottle, the second bottle, the glass you just keep filling and putting back in my hand? There’s soccer on in the background and my knees are bloody– or my knees used to be bloody. Maybe from falling down in this dress. Maybe from a soccer game. I was on a team in middle school, the Gators. We had these bright green jerseys and we played indoors. I can still hear the crowd yelling at my missed pass or I can feel your breath on my neck. Either way, my whole body melts into something that resembles cherry juice more than it resembles a body. Bodies are like that sometimes. Yours and then someone else’s. Bodies and then something else entirely. A window. A busted lock. A fleshlight. An old sock under the bed. Your mother is pacing in the kitchen upstairs and I wonder if she can hear my limbs screeching like they’re all attached to rusted hinges; but the door never slams open and no one ever runs down the steps. It’s just me and you and the spilled wine and its broken glass and your arm over my mouth. It’s just me and this body. This window. This broken lock. This mumbled apology. And your hands, which just get to stay hands.

Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)

[handsomedogs]

This is Wyatt, my 6 year old blue merle Border Collie, having his post bath crazies! - Meg Cody

[vandroid-helsing]

It used to bother me a little that Star Wars characters talked as if the Empire had been around forever (”before the dark times”, Obi-Wan says, exhausted) when the prequels tell us it’s only been about twenty years.

But since the inauguration, I get it.

[scots-dragon]

Also, it’s been just over a month since the inauguration, and for Obi-Wan Kenobi it’s been around 228 months. No wonder the guy looks so fucking old.

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

Darth Vader: (On Twitter) Obi Wan is trying to spread lies and claim I am a “Master of Evil” and “More Machine than man”. Sad! Very dishonest Jedi living on a Terrible Sand Planet!

[handsomedogs]

Spot and Phoebe ! - Taylor

[handsomedogs]

here are some old pictures of my dog. she’s a nine year old boston terrier named tricia. this is before all the grey hair!

[helenvaughans]

To tell the truth, love is a heavenly beast that scares the hell out of me. I watch it devour people, two by two; it fascinates them with the lure of eternity, shuts them up in a sort of cocoon, lifts them up to heaven, and then drops their carcasses back to earth like peels.

Kamel Daoud, The Meursault Investigation (Trans. John Cullen)