..

Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, And marigolds all in a row.”

[pescado-rabioso]

[mistresscontrary]

hoy y más que nunca kast ql

hoy y por siempre kast ql

[havingapoemwithyou]

Against Empire by Jim Moore

[aerithpilled]

the butch/femme scene of 1990s san francisco by chloe sherman

[havingapoemwithyou]

Against Empire by Jim Moore

[aireemacpherson]

you and me both, charlene

[undinesea]

The poet makes himself a seer by a long, prodigious, and rational disordering of all the senses. Every form of love, of suffering, of madness, he searches himself, he consumes all the poisons in him, and keeps only their quintessences.

Arthur Rimbaud, “The ‘Voyant’ Letter to Paul Demeny,” from Toward the Open Field: Poets on the Art of Poetry 1800-1950

[shoopsi]

*cracks knuckles* time to fuckin blog 

[existing-caregiver]

David Lynch

[uglyfruit]

Ribbons from 19th century France

[uncertainlys]

ever since i was a little girl i knew i didnt have a competitive spirit

[kosmogrl]

[fiery-kitty]

Six-winged Seraph (Azrael) – Mikhail Vrubel (1904)

[64mpg]

it has always been a dream of mine to relax

[burgerdotcom]

reblogs were off

[petaltexturedskies]

June, July, August. Every day, we hear their laughter. I think of the painting by van Gogh, the man in the chair. Everything wrong, and nowhere to go. His hands over his eyes.

Mary Oliver, from "August"

[freakoutgirl]

"all you ever do is complain" that's not true. I also resent.

[freakoutgirl]

and love..........