runaway

Hi, I'm Raymond. I'm an amateur musician, photographer and artist.

[saturday-songs]

Visit Original Link

[erinelizakelley]

I was in love with the place In my mind, in my mind I made a lot of mistakes In my mind, in my mind

[pr0tectinghands-blog]

Does anyone still read my work? I know I'm never active anymore, but I'm curious. Leave a like if you still glance upon my stuff once in a while. Thanks, RF

[pr0tectinghands-blog]

there is a pent up gnawing in my bones an itch i cannot scratch a lantern across the lake just beyond my grasp an ache inside my mind a dryness of my tongue a tearing in my tendons dust in my eye i cannot bear it it might have been easier to have drowned with no sight of the shore than to forever fight the tides and wash up on your coast lusting and longing but lungs lacking life oh how i would hold you how i would have my arms wrap around your shoulders my hands they would take a stroll down the avenue of your back skip across the bridge of your spine and watch the sun fall under the nook of your neck you are a perfect summer's day (i don't intend to be rash however fuck him I would never make you scared a day in your life fuck the things he does fuck his fucking face fuck everything about him) i want to get drunk again inebriated ecstasy have the warmth in my cheeks the slur of my eyesight and most importantly this is crucial it is imperative absolutely critical i need your head on my shoulder i need your skin and my skin to meet like circuits in a wire i need that tingle again of several hundred thousand volts running through my veins sweet poison rushing across my nerves but i know for sure because even my sober self agrees i want you and i together i want us back on that couch and the only thing that i would change would be that neither of us had to be anywhere when the sun would break so i could have one more chance to say in my shaky sentences: how bitterly awful the rest of my existence would be to not only wake up in the morning with a jackhammer decimating my temples but without the scent of your hair on my shirt or the lingering taste of your lips on mine how eternally ennervating it is to have every atom of mine ache for you

[pr0tectinghands-blog]

I was talking to someone I had just met about the things I do, and she said to me "Your parents must be really proud of you, huh?" and I just sat there and thought about it for a while. Were they? It didn't seem like it? Why would that be? Apparently to other people's standards the things I do garner approval, but I just don't understand why it doesn't for my family. After thinking about it, I decided to stay with the truth, "To be honest, I don't know if they are." I just think the fact that I had to think about this really isa testament to the environment at home. I don't remember the last time there was a single ounce of support and appreciation for anything that I've done. To others - they're spectacular. To my family, however, they are standard or in most cases - things to be ashamed of or to quit. If my grades aren't as high as they expect. Any and all things are to blame. If I miss school for this great opportunity, its a waste of my time. To them, any work I do is useless if its not for school or if I'm getting paid. Fuck. Nothing I ever do is good enough. No one ever focuses on what good I bring, but only focus on my faults. I don't remember when I am torn down and berated. Fuck this place, I don't know why I'm still here. I'd leave if only I could. Trust me, I'll take the first opportunity.

[pr0tectinghands-blog]

It's just that At 6:33 in the morning I'm thinking of you When i shouldnt I mean i shouldnt Shouldn't i? It's just that You are the tree That every one of them Has ever branched off from and i thought I'd never need To see your roots again It's just that I have seen you maybe a total of 3 or 5 hours In four and a half years But you havent changed a single bit You still feel as beautiful And as fascinating As i have always thought you to be It's just that I feel remarkably And inexplicably Magnetised to you I see you in every one i thought i loved And every passing by Every brush of the arm Every chance meeting at a coffeeshop Keeps me craving for more And i don't know why It's just that Maybe i just lust for life As those with 6 months to live Or maybe I long for your touch Just for the sake of being touched Or maybe It's the brevity that Strums my chords Or maybe It really has been you All along It's just that It makes no sense I mean You And I It's a joke right We've been this way before And I know the way it ends It's just that I can't help but hope/think That these years could change the way the trail leads It's just that My whole life All I've wanted was to be sure And now More than ever I just want to find out for myself

[dartmouthhome-blog]

Visit Original Link

[tris-tesse]

That howling wind, she’ll take everything, 

But she’s easy on the eyes

[mei-go]

[mademadly]

[diiscotechjuliet]

Visit Original Link

When You Were Young | The Killers

we’re burning down the highway skyline on the back of a hurricane that started turning when you were young

[marshalljamess]

[nerdsigh-deactivated20190414]

[restaurer-deactivated20140105]

Untitled by dearlleila

[grett]

Muxía by Alberto Álvarez Gómez on Flickr.

[icanread]

[newblogisjacindaelena]

 Lars Wästfelt

[pr0tectinghands-blog]

These lovely people (minus a couple other awesome souls) have travelled across the world with me and made me feel more at home than home has ever felt.

[wolverxne]