Sweet Seals For You, Always
RMH
Misplaced Lens Cap

if i look back, i am lost

izzy's playlists!

ellievsbear
Mike Driver

⁂
wallacepolsom
No title available
DEAR READER
taylor price
Cosimo Galluzzi

JBB: An Artblog!

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
No title available
occasionally subtle
art blog(derogatory)

tannertan36
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from Malaysia
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seen from Canada
seen from North Macedonia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from North Macedonia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada

seen from Switzerland
@mirrorspell
Hairstyling by Bernardo Martins
STOPPPPPP putting the fake cunty old people on my dash
buoyant, 2025, oil on canvas, 90 x 120 cm
i created a new happy version of freak because a friend asked me to post freak but i felt bad that freak is so crying all the time
Beast executioner
Heated rivalry should have been about the silent orbiting of gas giants in a distant galaxy
david wojnarowicz | close to the knives: a memoir of disintegration
Duggie Fresh is a fun lovin’ guy. He’s part greyhound and part noodle. Duggie is always ready to cuddle.
John Fabian Carlson (Swedish-born American, 1874--1945)
spending several weeks scheduling a get-together for six of my friends but not telling them my plan is for us to walk around the business district downtown in a line like the band Madness
Laura Benson (American, 1997) - Haunt (n.d.)
João Ruas
Tom Forrestall, Eye And Thorns, 1999
- Antonin Artaud - from General Security: The Liquidation of Opium
Destroy yourself, you who are desperate, and you who are tortured in body and soul, abandon all hope. There is no more solace for you in this world. The world lives off your rotting flesh. And you, lucid madmen, spastics, cancer patients, chronic meningitis cases, you are misunderstood. There is a point in you which no doctor will ever understand, and for me this is the point which saves you and makes you august, pure, wonderful: you are outside life, you are above life, you have miseries which the ordinary man does not know, you exceed the normal level, and it is for this that men refuse to forgive you, you poison their peace of mind, you undermine their stability. You have irrepressible pains whose essence is to be inadaptable to any known state, indescribable in words. You have repeated and shifting pains, incurable pains, pains beyond imagining, pains which are neither of the body nor of the soul, but which partake of both. And I share your suffering, and I ask you: who dares to ration our relief? In the name of what superior lucidity that usurps our very souls, we who are at the very root of knowledge and lucidity? And this because of our desire, because of our determination to suffer. We whom pain has sent traveling through our souls in search of a calm place to cling to, seeking stability in evil as others seek stability in good. We are not mad, we are wonderful doctors, we know the dosage of soul, of sensibility, of marrow, of thought. You must leave us alone, you must leave the sick alone, we ask nothing of mankind, we ask only for the relief of our suffering. We have evaluated our lives well, we know what restrictions they impose on others and above all on ourselves. We know what willed deterioration, what renunciation of ourselves, what paralyses of subtle functions our disease inflicts on us each day. We are not going to kill ourselves just yet. In the meantime, leave us the hell alone.