I like stuffies

Little, Scorpio, Extraterrestrials, writing, bukowski, green, photographs, 11/11/99, I emptied her purse. I felt her breasts, her legs. I felt her pulse. She was dead. Other blog: @Littleletterss

[maddisontia]

[littleletterss]

We're going on a bear hunt.

Alone with company, because I am not comfortable with my own; I drowned within myself. An implosion of grief and catastrophes, I held everything and more, against myself; like the sword you held to your stomach with my hands. It was brutal, it was malus- everything that is wrong with this world screaming in symphonic melancholy.

I carried all that was not mine for too long, it inevitably and viciously weighed me down. My face constantly towards the ground, the grass, the Bluebells... oh, the Bluebells. I could no longer see the white doves and white butterflies above me, nor heavenly skies.

I only saw the night time, everyone, every object seen strictly in the dark. Those goosebumps books did not prepare me for the grimness inside humanity, when they lack just that.

Those bear hunt books never prepared me for when I was never looking for the beasts, yet the beasts came to me.

No, I couldn't go over it, I could go under it, I had to fucking go through it.

04/11/21

[littleletterss]

You

How do I begin to tell you just how much I love you?

It feels like an incredible feat,

A mouse facing a mountain,

Or escaping from your own mind

When I gaze at you, each and

Every morning in awe, admiration

Every night, with butterflies filling my abdomen

And adoration in my heart

I am profoundly sorry that,

You do not know how much I love you,

It is not ones' mistake, but my own

I was an image of ignorance,

Shooting you, dead, from your throne

So many mistakes, I have made

And for that; I know this is the

Price to pay

There are not enough hours in the day

Nor enough words left to say

Except- I submit

I will never let your cold hands loose

From my grip

You are everything in the world,

So beautiful encompassed into one vessel

A vessel I have come to know as; you

You; first my friend, then the best, to my boyfriend,

My husband, yet

I love your soul more

Than I have ever loved life

Before

You gave me a glimpse of that life,

That sweet, serendipitous life-

I had never before comprehended,

Never opened my eyes

Until you told me to: "fly, birdie,

Fly".

31/10/21

[drowsyd0ll]

[malnedott]

giovanni battista tiepolo (italian, 1696-1770)

“the triumph of zephyrus and flora” detail ca. 1732

[yungalien]

[monmonshabby]

[01-24-00]

[carbink]

mods are asleep post toilets with threatening auras

[strongbowdarkfruit]

don’t like this one bit

[cosmicgirlfriend]

[catsuggest]

Elliott suggest: flatten chonk to take up entire chair.

[hospitalheaven-blog]

[alinaperle]

[simena]

Raimund Ritter von Wichera (detail)

[heaveninawildflower]

Decorative cover of ‘Beautiful Wild Flowers’ by Isaac Sprague. Text by A.B. Hervey. Published 1887 by Nims & Knight

archive.org

[visionsofour-past]

• Spirit Photograph.

Place of origin: London, England

Date: 1900

Medium: Cyanotype

[comicslams]

Second Love, c.1970s