hot cheetos over hot chicos
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@wilshres
hot cheetos over hot chicos
I butterfly it like trout. Slide my knife through the mountain ridge of little bones. Lay it flat. Turn it over and over. And yes, I cried cleaning what we had. Found that exhaustion is looking hard for the hesitation in your voice like it is biological specimen. Or evidence. Like you becoming another thing not loving me back is part of some terrible crime scene.
astagesetforcatastrophe, butterfly the messages (via facinaoris)
halsey - empty gold x lana del rey - shades of cool
When someone dies, we go searching for poetry. When a new chapter of life starts or ends — graduations, weddings, inaugurations, funerals — we insist on poetry. The occasion for poetry is always a grand one, leaving us little people with our little lives bereft of elegies and love poems. But I want elegies while I’m still alive, I want rhapsodies though I’ve never seen Mount Olympus. I want ballads, I want ugly, grating sounds, I want repetition, I want white space, I want juxtaposition and metaphor and meditation and ALL CAPS and erasure and blank verse and sonnets and even center-aligned italicized poems that rhyme, and most of all — feelings.
Jenny Zhang, “How It Feels,” published in Poetry (via facinaoris)
no other person on this planet was made for you, they were made for themselves. love is all about choices. no one is going to be perfect for you, and i think we need to stop raising everyone on the belief that someone out there, just one other person in the whole world, was “made for you” because it isn’t true. no one is made for you, besides you. other people belong to themselves. if you want to make it work with someone, it’s about hard work, understanding, compassion, communication, and choice
Bethany Catharine
what do you MEAN it’s inappropriate for gold digger by kanye west to be my wedding song
Dara Muscat Follow on Instagram @daramuscat http://ift.tt/2emYdWF
I’m not like most girls *long pause as I sip chocolate milk through my very complex straw* I’m worse
quidquid calcaverit hic, rosa fiat.
“Wherever he or she treads, may there be roses.” Persius (34 - 62 AD), Satire 2.38 (via lesgardenias)
every semicolon i’ve ever used has been a shot in the dark
It’s amazing that people still feel, ‘Oh my gosh, it’s a black guy.’ We’ve been here for a long time. Let’s get used to it. Let’s get used to other cultures.
Me: I'm sorry
Arrested Development Narrator Voice: She wasn't sorry
2016 sucks but at least the music’s good