this mausoleum is big enough for the both of us.

I'll be a city when I'm all grown up. All originally posted writing is protected under copyright.

[inchesgiven]

holy shit, I thought I was logged out of this thing forever.

[ellaspearl-blog]

Visit Original Link

If I come I come to raise the dead 

Even with all these demons in my head 

And if you’ve come to raise them too 

If you wait for me, I’ll wait for you 

[inchesgiven]

I know I'm basically dead on this website by now, but I have to take a moment to appreciate @tylerlyle some more.

[deeplystained]

Don’t look strange men in the face unless you want them to look back. You can’t carry your body around like it’s covered in sequins, or worth shit  without making everyone uncomfortable, Sam. Don’t blame the world for how it wants to get its hands around your throat – you’re the one who showed up with a throat to begin with.

Sam Sax, from Learning to Breathe Water (via deeplystained)

[mmmaygen]

cole mohr.

[teethvsteeth-deactivated2018061]

Visit Original Link

I’ll write you letters and I’ll write you songs and you will be endlessly distracting

[darksilenceinsuburbia]

Marwene Pallas

Doctrine of Signatures

[dankmemesforsadteens]

[neshamama]

Collette, In Memory of Ophelia and All Those Who Died of Love and Madness, 1976

[darksilenceinsuburbia]

Elmgreen & Dragset 

[darksilenceinsuburbia]

[damnitamber-deactivated20160624]

From Casa Susanna: Photographs from a 1950s Trans Hideaway

[femmevoid]

these photos of casa susanna were the first pictures i ever saw of trans women in the past and theyve been important to me since coming out

[opiumhug-deactivated20181011]

I love this and it’s so important

[smoothiefreak]

One Week in Makeup Removal Wipes: A Visual Diary

[chescaleigh]

i love everything about this.

[slutmau5]

Me too! I love doing this.

[inchesgiven]

I miss everyone in this picture more than I can possibly articulate. I miss my Atlanta babies. I miss it all.

[buttonpoetry]

[buttonpoetry]

Crystal Valentine - “And the News Reporter Says Jesus Is White”. Support the artist, check out the full poem here.

[wildflowerveins]

I don’t write poetry anymore and nothing can hurt me. I don’t write poetry anymore and every river is bleeding towards a home. All I really want is a man to put his hands in my mouth. All I really want is two stones or a sleeping dog or a dead horse. I take long walks from one street corner to another. There are so many little things that make up a life. I look my strangers in the eyes. I am almost always imagining some kind of violence. I cheated this Ramadan. I’ve cheated every Ramadan. I don’t write poetry anymore so I don’t have to think about my mother. I haven’t kissed anyone in months. I’m not as good as I hoped I’d be. Yesterday I noticed my front tooth is rotting.

They Named The Girl River, Yasmin Belkhyr (via wildflowerveins)

[fleurishes]

Everything I write lately is bloated with sadness. When you try to love the world but she’s all fists, all gut, all blood. I don't know what to do with all of my black girl grief– maybe auction it off, maybe bottle it, maybe just let it sit in the sun and heat up and cool down again. Let it congeal against the sides of the bowl  and scrape it off to start over again the next day. I get off the bus ten stops early so that I can make the long walk home, feel the ground hard and sure beneath my aching feet. I smell like flour, dough, rosemary, the oven that cooks the pizzas. I like how everyone looks at night: warm and drunk and happy, even the trees. I take off my lonely like a bodysuit and put it where I keep my sweaters. I gargle with salt. I moisturize with honey.  I remember the bodies that came before mine, the bodies that made it possible for my body to be here now. My friends and I are so pleased with these parties we throw for ourselves. We toast to them at our next awful brunch.

Kristina Haynes, “My Grief is Available For Pre-Order” (via fleurishes)

[abduction]

[themortician133]