* 𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑷𝑬𝑫𝑬

BRUTUS, BRUTUS, BRUTUS,

[saintipede-blog]

a friendly reminder that im mostly over at #pzalms right now

[pzalms-blog]

 the    kingdom   of   heaven   suffereth   violence   ,   and   the   violent   bear   it   away                               /                 #LESIASTES   scribed   by   samwise   .

[saintipede-blog]

poses. it’s me. i’ve finally got some motivation to write again so i hopefully i’ll be showing up again with a new blog for everyone to check out

[valtsv]

im like a religious art piece. grotesque, haunting, full of melodrama and guilt and unsettlingly horny.

[mlmlmlmlmlmlmlmlmlml-deactivate]

[klassizismus]

─ A day dream,1863.

[saintipede-blog]

write me starters

[lifeinpoetry]

“And I think that’s what a father is / —a blade that never stops cutting.”

— Desireé Dallagiacomo, from “Origin Story,” Sink

[lmsgfbn]

[saintipede-blog]

Buzzfeed Tarot Quiz.

You got: Death

You can be a bit intense and find yourself drawn to dark and mysterious things. You’ve been through a lot and have probably seen your fair share of endings, but probably cope with it through humor. On top of that, you are surprisingly easygoing — you’re open to change, try not to let past baggage weigh you down, and seek out new experiences.

Tagged by: @conseille Tagging: nah

[altraviolence]

where are my wings?  for behold, the lord will come in fire and His chariots like the whirlwind, to render His anger with fury, and His rebuke with flames of fire. isaiah 66:15-16

[witchstone]

Elly Smallwood Saturn Oil on wood panel Galerie Benjamin Eck, Munich 2017

[escapekit]

100 Nights series

Massachusetts-based photographer Lauren Zaknoun creates surreal shots that range from enchanting, disturbing to poetically mesmerizing. Each image in the series looks like a dream scenario or a terrifying nightmare. Headless girls, floating feathers or thorny arms are just some of the fantasies that come to life in her images.

[uglyfruit]

[saintipede-blog]

ghostpillow   :

       “ why do i like to bake? ”  the lilt of his voice skips, all butterfly wings and star clusters dripping as he works the butter into the graham dust.  it’s peaceful, it smells good, his kitchen is full of vigor, for once.  it reminds him of the same warmth ten years ago, that’s for sure.

       “ … well, i like it because you eat it!  is that reason enough? plus, i just wanted to find something new to do ‘n i think it’s really nice, you know? ”  and he plops the ball of pie crust into the tin with a heavy sound, pressing it down to shape as a tiny sigh escapes his mouth.  it’s peaceful and it’s nice.  that’s all.  that’s it.  “ there’s no reason to it.  most of what i do doesn’t really have a reason, anyway.  ”

 𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏   𝒑𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔   are   neatly   discarded   ,   tucked   away   ,   seeds   deposited   without   fanfare   into   the   garbage   .   the   bowl   is   presented   ,   almost   with   pride   ,   hubris   ,   an   accomplished   smile   on   his   face   .   the   look   of   a   child   succeeding   in   new   ventures   .   “   i   don’t   think   many   people   do   live   their   life   with   reason   ;   i   certainly   don’t   .   “

 he   tucks   himself   into   a   chair   ,   curled   tightly   ,   as   though   slumbering   after   long   &   .   arduous   task   ,   “   i   do   things   because   i   want   to   .   because   i   enjoy   it   .   i   could   retire   &   .   live   comfortably   but   .   .   .   “   icy   gaze   matches   boy’s   own   .   “   i   think   living   your   life   for   pleasure   is   the   only   way   to   do   it   .   “

[strechanadi]

Paris Opera ballet

The seasons’ canon

Photo: scenelibre

[ladybluefox666]