I am a cage, in search of a bird.
Franz Kafka (via thatlitsite)


why touch yourself when u can touch me


This is great

This is great


Voodoo Doughnut Chocolate, Peanut Butter & Banana Ale


Dr. Seuss’ inspiration
I remember you said something like,
“the sun doesn’t set anywhere unless it sets in Tucson,”
that dusk when we sat on the hood of my car,
folded into each other like the specks of white
inside the stitches of denim jeans.
That was back when we used to laugh at how
we had become
who parents and lambs
and various shades of pure white
stayed up late wringing their hands over.
That was back when we smiling
nailed judgements by their carpenter
hands to the floorboards under the carpet.
They could eat our bread bodies for all we cared,
drink our wine blood.
But, stars die all the time.
Now it’s ten months past
“you ain’t got nothing I never had,”
and all I can do
is press my hot forehead
into the inside of a dirty window
and squint
at how people find it romantic
when the blue sky turns deep purple
like a swollen bruise.
“That Romantic Sunset”  Laura Van Slyke,  (via byrdseed)
Have you ever lost yourself in a kiss? I mean pure psychedelic inebriation. Not just lustful petting but transcendental metamorphosis when you became aware that the greatness of this being was breathing into you. Licking the sides and corners of your mouth, like sealing a thousand fleshy envelopes filled with the essence of your passionate being and then opened by the same mouth and delivered back to you, over and over again - the first kiss of the rest of your life. A kiss that confirms that the universe is aligned, that the world’s greatest resource is love, and maybe even that God is a woman. With or without a belief in God, all kisses are metaphors decipherable by allocations of time, circumstance, and understanding
Saul Williams’ Said the Shotgun to the Head (via descroissants)