Vivisepulture

buried alive

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

We should have been excused from lugging a body: the burden of the self was enough.

E.M. Cioran,  from The Trouble With Being Born (via helmholts)

[cerceos-deactivated20160308]

Yuri Kuznetsov

Seagulls, 2009

[xbxbygirlx-deactivated20150410]

[choisenone-deactivated20151204]

[maccalarco]

Somewhere Else,

2014

[iameverysparklywoman]

He undreams himself, remembers she has left him.

 Michael Ondaatje, from In the Skin of a Lion. (via yumeni)

[marlenichen]

"Don’t worry, Mary, I have been tutoring him."

[delta-breezes]

[pastelgrenades-deactivated20170]

i dont want you to forget Leelah Alcorn

i dont want you to forget Tamir Rice

i dont want you to forget Eric Garner

i dont want you to forget Micheal Brown

i dont want you to forget those who die everyday due to hatred

dont let 2015 start off as a way to forget those who die of racism and transphobia. 

[winterfellis]

by Liembo on Flickr.

[sholtoe-deactivated20151207]

m.h.

[isoldmysoultocollege]

I just want to give a shout out to all the medical staff that have to work during the holidays. Thank you for what you do and for caring and comforting those who are ill or hurt during the holidays. Thank you for spending your Christmas by their side and doing your best to keep them healthy. 

[agooduniverse]

I wanted to write you tender. That is to say, I wanted to writeof a tenderness that did not exist. That is to say, I wantedand in the wanting gave life to a series of white lies that coalesced into a mythology beginning with a creation myth where you loved me back. Give me a chance to get thisright, a chance to write this down. To memorialize these words that,unfettered and fluttering, threatento leave me. And here is the truth of it: I am bad at letting things go. Here is the truth about holiness,here is the truth about your wings which from a great height look so much like a black hole, of your lion’s maw from which your voicecame like thunder: I will never be rectified of your divinity. Now in public spaces I wander, desperate. I try to free myself of these tremors, those sweats, willing my bloodto be more than blood. I go towards strangers pointing at the burn marks. I tell them, ‘This is where the angel kissed me.’

Veneration & Other Painful Mythologies About Love | agooduniverse  (via facinaoris)

[screenshotsofdespair]

[trippy-bruh-deactivated20240726]

[omyt]

[shes2sensitive]