“I take bread, / & break it. say: / this is my body, taken back. I do this in remembrance / of me.”
— Imani Davis, from “Everything Must Go,” published in The Adroit Journal
Damn

★

#extradirty
KIROKAZE

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Origami Around
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Stranger Things

titsay
Game of Thrones Daily

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Discoholic 🪩
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
🪼
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Three Goblin Art
noise dept.
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@theoptimalone
“I take bread, / & break it. say: / this is my body, taken back. I do this in remembrance / of me.”
— Imani Davis, from “Everything Must Go,” published in The Adroit Journal
Damn
She dreams in color she dreams in red
I just feel a little bit hollow
May the 10 of Pentacles bless your account with more money than you can spend. 💵✨
10 of Pentz came thruuu
Not a curse but I fucking need this right now .
Please
Shit I’d take 20$ 😂😂😂😂😂
I just wanna live forever and ever and never get the heart pangs
A reoccurring dream
I step through a rose garden in a white cotton dress. The breeze comes in from the north & smells like the sea. Vines and ivy cover the limestone walls. It is bright and eternally hopeful. My bare feet in the grass are firmly planted like roots of a willow tree. I feel as if my soul was made here.
Although I’ve never seen this place, I know it is my Ultimate- for I have seen it in my Mind’s Eye long before I stepped foot here. By the fountain in the center play 3 children who I have never seen, yet their features are so very familiar. A twig cracks under my left foot. Their faces light up & somehow we know we belong to each other. A joy I have never known radiates out of my chest and flows out through my finger tips. I fall on my knees, arms outstretched. An embrace. I swing them in my arms and we play for hours in our secret garden.
Hours pass blissfully and effortlessly, soon the sky is dark. I don’t know how I know this, but I know there’s a house just up the path. The children begin to lead me there, pulling my hands eagerly and excitedly. But a coldness sets in- I can’t remember who awaits us in the house. In confusion, I turn back to look at the garden- but it is charred and black. Eyes wide in horror I face forward- the children’s faces are grotesque and voices distorted. A guttural moan escapes my lips as I realize I can no longer remember their names. Doubled over. No more laughter, the sound of my jagged breaths are all I hear.
As if growing impatient, an invisible force lifts & hurtles my limp body toward the house. I slam into trees and various obstacles along the way. I levitate above the doorstep, but when I do not knock after several seconds, I’m dropped. On the door step, body broken, bleeding, & in excruciating pain. I know it could all end if I knocked, but I can’t bring myself to see who is inside. I lay and weep, a pile of red cotton and mangled flesh. I go on living for what feels like days.
Then that’s where it ends. I wake up. But the fear stays. Because even awake, I must figure how to make it to that garden, to make it perfect for them.
witch wife by edna st vincent millay
It’s so fucked up that women are so universally dismissed and hated in society that nearly every single woman goes through a phase (if not a lifetime) of thinking she isn’t like other women purely because she has rational thoughts, hobbies, feelings, and needs.
“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.”
— Sun Tzu, The Art of War (via amortizing)
“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”
— Oscar Wilde (via amortizing)
inhale—try not to remember how desperate you’ve been for touch—yes ignore it—that hitch of your heart
— Brionne Janae, from “Child’s Pose,” published in Poem-a-Day
Just fucking call me you son of a bitch