#fi*

[some-internet-stranger]

Echoes of wisdom with a sword!!🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

[trash-quark]

I'm on a sci-fi book kick. Blease recommend me books about space or aliens or extra dimensions or whatever?

[concealdontfckingfeel-blog]

to my baby girl,

You’re the grandest masterpiece. An abstract oil painting– unorganized and messy but oh so deep and interesting to be with. I wonder all the time about how deep your colours run and how the texture of the oil paint feels underneath the pads of my fingers when I’m allowed to touch the art that no one else will ever dare lay a longing glance on. I think about the way you sit in your frame, every scuff mark and nick and gouge and splinter, every engraved detail that I could look at for hours an memorize with my eyes closed; you’re a marvel, a phenomenon, a rarity and a goddess walking among us mere feeble excuses for some sort of Devine reflection of a higher power. You’re vibrancy makes the pictures dance like a cowboy shooting at someone’s feet, dance like a ballerina desperate for the lead role. Makes my insides yell and scream and shiver and shriek in a chorus of verses I’ll never write down, only feel when I look at you, touch you, taste you..

How many brush stokes did it take to make that colour of your heart? I can’t word how many it would take to paint the sky with all the words I want to string together when it comes to even just the thought of you. Splash watercolours over acrylics and watch them bead off the bold and seep into the canvas like the bruises we’ve carried, only to hand each other a new brush dipped in dirty water asking, “please, make it pretty again?”

You’re every painting of a flower I’ve ever seen. Every dainty silhouette, every tint of color rolling into vibrancy, every centre so perfectly complex and enchanting that I could stare for hours; with my head cocked, until my eyes crossed and my knees gave way under me. You’re every curve in the words that come barreling out of my pen– whether it be top speed, ripping through the paper like a round of bullets of some sharp words in the heat of a moment, or slow and careful, calculated and planned and stepped around like mud puddles or dew worms on the sidewalk in the rain; you’ve always connected the ink in my veins to the ink in every pen I touch. You ignite my mind like a firework launched at an old typewriter– messy and chaotic, keys and letters melt and squeal from the flames while the rest is a host to the pretty explosions of colours I’d paint the sky with if it meant it would make you smile.

i’m so unapologetically in love with you. from the moment my eyes fixated on you, you had me. and you’ll have me for the rest of forever, however long that is.

don’t ever forget what you mean to me, baby.

yours, forever and always.

xo frnk 🖤

[concealdontfckingfeel-blog]

My head, my life, my thoughts, my home, my worry...all places I could so fucking easily get lost in. I don’t know where I am most of the time, I don’t know what I feel most of the time. 

The most I feel is when I’m by their sides. Or when I’m singing loudly and proudly and with nothing but power in my voice, power and loss and that fucking ache that strains my heart but soothes my skin and bones. I get lost in those feelings too. 

Being entangled in not one but three pairs of arms that love me must be all I’ve ever needed because when I’m with them there’s nothing that could ever be wrong. And no amount of misdirection or disorientation can shake that unwavering, solid feeling of peace in my core when they’re with me. 

[concealdontfckingfeel-blog]

I don’t know why I’m surprised. I don’t know why I thought I was worth anything more to him than a fling, a two month fuck, a brief pitstop on his journey to ‘bettering himself’. Now he’s back with William and I hope to fuck it’s worth it. I hope that hurting me and fucking me around and breaking my heart was worth it. Fuck him for ever making me feel guilty for dumping him. Fuck him for ever making me fall in love with him only to be reminded, once again, that I was never the one he truly wanted. 

All I care about now is being safe with my three saviours. People who I can tell actually give a fuck about me, people who listen to my worries and talk to me about their’s like they trust me. People who I want to surround myself in and never emerge from. My boys. 

[concealdontfckingfeel-blog]

my poor frankie is so fucking devastated. he’s curled up into himself and I don’t know when he’s going to be okay again...losing your pet is so fucking hard. sweet pea was his companion, his...fuck, she was his pet equivalent of a soul mate and it’s going to be so hard for him without her. I’m thankful he has gerard and bert there to hold him but I won’t be fully okay until I’m there and able to hold him myself. 

maybe we can all just fold over him like a human cocoon. 

[concealdontfckingfeel-blog]

that...just made me sweat. a lot. oh my.