…the old fierce pull of blood.
William Faulkner, Barn Burning (via rotgospels)
cherry valley forever
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available
RMH
DEAR READER
Peter Solarz
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

No title available

Andulka
Claire Keane

★
Not today Justin
d e v o n

JVL
Today's Document
tumblr dot com

No title available
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Russia

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
@ourobcros
…the old fierce pull of blood.
William Faulkner, Barn Burning (via rotgospels)
I would write with blood on your back so you grow the most efficacious aphotic wings that no blizzard, no torrential storms or Oceans of tears could ever tear apart.
Channing H.M (via de-morte)
“There is something bleeding to death inside me but I don’t know what it is.”
— Ingeborg Bachmann, from Three Paths to the Lake; “Eyes to Wonder,”
But darling, these memories? they will desecrate you, make you crawl into a burgeoning cave of poison. It will not leave you alive.
Channing H.M (via de-morte)
Dante et Virgile
I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you.
T.S. Eliot, East Coker (via sad-house-of-mortality)
Now the hour bows down, it touches me, throbs metallic, lucid and bold: my senses are trembling. I feel my own power —
Rainer Maria Rilke, excerpt of The Book of a Monastic life, “I, 1: Now the hour bows down”, from The Book of Hours: Love Poems to God, trans. by Babette Deutsch
Source — Da neigt sich die Stunde und rührt mich an mit klarem metallenem Schlag: mir zittern die Sinne. Ich fühle: ich kann –
(via antigonick)
We will be monsters, alone in the world, but we will have each other.
Mary Shelley (via quotemadness)
I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.
Mary Shelley (via quotemadness)
What's the kinkiest thing you are into?
feeling wanted
i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you
Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.
Kait Rokowski (via sunsetquotes)
@kyrxxndy edits
Christina Rossetti | “Goblin Market” | 1862