broom-shaped pleasure

jesse | 25 | WA | aries perpetually feeling like something is slightly off

[modelsof-color]

Tsunaina by Suleika Mueller for CAP 74024 Magazine - Dec 2020

[thefugitivesaint]

Hannes Bok (1914-1964), ‘The Three’, “Famous Fantastic Mysteries”, Vol. 10, #6, 1949 Source

[silent-mindfulness]

[grandparentcore]

they’re living the dream

[llovelymoonn]

susan sontag as consciousness is harnessed to the flesh: journals and notebooks, 1964-1980: “february 17th, 1970” (via @theoptia​) \ griefmother

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[a-ramblinrose]

― Louise Glück, from ‘Mitosis’        Poems 1962-2012

[terminusantequem]

Karel Appel (Dutch, 1921-2006), Eternal Space of Being 2, 1990. Oil and acrylic on canvas, 190,5 x 228,5 cm

[il-etait-lune-fois]

[asakiyume]

[luxus-aeterna]

Naomi Native as Oshun by the Tog Father.

[freelancedumbass]

[oldpaintings]

The Progress of a Soul: The Entrance, The Stress, Despair, The Victory, 1895-1902 by Phoebe Anna Traquair (Scottish, 1852–1936)

[occultclassicalbright]

[ms-mau]

HUIJSUM, Jan van (1682-1749) Still life, details circa 1720

[thequesogrande]

trying to gauge all of the hurt i’ve likely caused in my last relationship. all i can say is the road goes both ways, and i am sick when i think about what we put ourselves through. all the fuckin lies we tell ourselves when we want so badly to be in love. i want to say that looking back, i should have known the whole time i was dealing with lies i created for myself, one’s that shielded me from the many hard truths of being with someone, taking from someone and not being able to provide what they needed for contentment.

all i can say is i got schooled and i won’t make that mistake twice. i feel like i survived a house fire, like looking back i could have just as easily been swallowed up by grief and death and darkness. i’m thankful to be here in the present, rid of that pain. i’m also terrified to work through the rest of this hurt that sits with me, makes my stomach sick and my shoulders hunch in defense. how much blame can i take on? surely that’s so much easier than admitting someone i let so close hurt me so deeply. we hurt each other and that is the saddest part of the whole thing.

[thequesogrande]

my journal is too far away rn so -

i am feeeeling like 100000 things at once. so overwhelmed lately with the absolute amount of feeling i feel and can sit with and appreciate. what a fucking beautiful and messy and disgusting life we are living. it feels silly to be 24 and saying this and yet i’ve never felt anything more in my entire life.

i’m feeling this ADHD everyone tells me i have lately, am i just convincing myself of it or has my brain always been this scrambled?

i am really thankful of the way i’ve come to know and understand consent. my time as a caregiver definitely helped with this- like just the basic important of consent when you’re touching another person’s body. the same goes for their space and their emotions- you can only go as deep as another person will consent, no matter how bad you want to know the depths of them. and im happy that my desire is strong, but i’m happier that i can recognize when someone’s put up their boundary. and those boundaries still hurt sometimes but i’m working on not taking them personally, because they have nothing to do with me.

anyways hey tumblr it’s been a minute, never that long tho

[metamorphesque]

― Salma Deera, Letters From Medea

[text ID: The centre of every poem is this: / I have loved you. / I have had to deal with that.]

[1five1two]

'Apocalypse'. Fritz Schwimbeck.