Misplaced Lens Cap

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Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
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Game of Thrones Daily

if i look back, i am lost
noise dept.

gracie abrams
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taylor price
occasionally subtle

izzy's playlists!
I'd rather be in outer space đž

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ

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Discoholic đȘ©
Claire Keane
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@salacious-chaos
Untitled | mydetoxtravel
Obsessed, exhausted, driven out of my mind / by tenderness and desire.
Alexander Pushkin, from The Bronze Horseman: Poems; â19th of October,â (via 69rooms)
My soul is chaos, how can it be at all? There is everything in me: search and you will find out. I am a fossil dating from the beginning of the world: not all of its elements have completely crystallized, and initial chaos still shows through. I am absolute contradiction, climax of antinomies, the last limit of tension; in me anything is possible, for I am he who at the supreme moment, in front of absolute nothingness, will laugh.
Emil Cioran, from On The Heights Of Despair (via 69rooms) @cosensual
Battery Park | thewilliamanderson
The person who plays on repeat in your heart.
A rhythm only they can answer.
Thoughts only they can understand.
Awakening you in the middle of the darkest night.
Achingly so.
Heart beatingly so.
Tossing and turning.
One thought.
Do I cross your mind at that same time also?
~ beautflstrangerÂ
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â€ïžYmMâ€ïžYes, my Master!
I want that lingerie set.
I want that bookshelf.
Oh, so primal.
Youâre primal. We get it.
Dominance is not what you do. Itâs who you are. Itâs something you were born with. The moment you were born the nurse spontaneously came and you slapped the doctor.
You are a beast-god among mere men. You live on a diet of beer and raw gazelle.
Your very presence causes women to succumb in the throes of submissive ecstasy. You need not speak to make your desires known but instead communicate by flexing your aura in Morse code.
You will mark her as yours with a collar made from the tanned hide of a wildebeest you killed with your teeth. It will not be locked onto her but rather sewn in place, as she will never want to remove it. She will be buried in it after her tragic passing from just one explosive orgasm too many.
You will protect her, like the warrior you are, from Visigoths and sabretoothed tigers and the shambling hordes of the mad wizard Abdul Alhazred and Jehovahâs Witnesses. She will kneel, clutching your sculpted calf, secure in the power of your mighty thews.
You will take her to the full limits of her darkest fantasies and beyond, to the darkest fantasies of other people. In fact, you will run out of them in the middle of it and have to run next door to borrow darkest fantasies from the neighbors.
You are everything she will ever need. Her breath. Her meat and drink. Her toothpaste. Her maxipads. Her bacon bits. Her new season of Orange Is The New Black.
You are primal. You are the original man. You are the Alpha of Alphas.
We know because you typed it and posted it on the internet. You do that a lot. Have you noticed that? Itâs like, dude, the only thing you ever talk about. Why are you on the computer so much anyway? Shouldnât you be out wrestling bears or putting out oilwell fires with your abs? Who are you trying so very hard to convince?
Sorry. I did not mean to question your primal primalness. It is, of course, beyond question, something we just know.
This is, after all, The Island of Misfit Narcissists, and you are our king.
(Originally found on Fetlife, written by LonesomeJones; posted to Tumblr with the authorâs written permission)
Iâm too primal to even read. I just ate this post. I ate my whole phone.
âIâve already found what I want for dinner my girlâ