IX

"We’ve been kissing for months. Three times a week our toothbrushes share a chipped porcelain mug in..."

Sun, 19 May 2013 13:22:06 +0800

“We’ve been kissing for months. Three times a week our toothbrushes share a chipped porcelain mug in my bathroom. As my lips reach for the juice falling from her laugh, her mom calls. I listen as she talks about Biology, her new job, asks about her sister. Her eyes drop as she whispers, No, I still don’t have a boyfriend.

On cue, I stop chewing. She looks at me, waiting for my face to flush, for me to tear from the bed, but I won’t get mad at her. She shouldn’t have to explain why we can’t go swimming in public, why I don’t own a razor, why she doesn’t need to buy birth control. She hangs up the phone; I pick up the fruit, tell her Apparently, there’s a tiny amount of cyanide in apple seeds.

She shrugs, says she can handle a little danger, but I’ve studied how her dimples disappear when she lies, and I know she’s thinking about a man she could parade around her family, who could kiss her scratchy with stubble. The kind of man I’ll never be.

She squeezes my hand in the movie theater dark but tosses it to the side in front of her friends. Says she just needs time. She walks on the sidewalk. I walk in the street. She closes the door. I kiss it goodnight. She goes home for Thanksgiving. I promise not to call.

If I were a postcard, she could hide me in her pocket. If I were clay, she could mold my body into something easier to love. If I were the guy who sells her a cup of coffee every morning. I could smile at her anonymously, safe as a stranger.

She kisses down my neck, my peel hiding the rotten fruit inside me. As I tell her about the cyanide, her head resting on my chest, she talks about cider, autumn pies. See, she says, Apples are harmless. But she saves the last bites for me, scared to let her lips wander too close to the core.”

- Miles Walser, “We Eat an Apple In My Bed” from What The Night Demands (via pigmenting)

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Sun, 19 May 2013 13:14:31 +0800

"Love, if this is how you choose to leave me let me let you."

Sun, 19 May 2013 09:42:17 +0800

“Love, if this is how you choose to leave me let me let you.”

- Cyril Wong, from “Boats” (via helplesslyamazed)

georgiacapra: monumental desire

Sat, 18 May 2013 23:06:50 +0800

georgiacapra:

monumental desire

“I’m really, really enjoying having a chance to transform into...

Sat, 18 May 2013 16:55:27 +0800

“I’m really, really enjoying having a chance to transform into new roles and to work with new people.”

My hobbies include laying in bed in my underwear while I listen to music and hate myself

Sat, 18 May 2013 16:01:00 +0800

My hobbies include laying in bed in my underwear while I listen to music and hate myself

ohcardigan: Medley, Tegan and Sara (My Number, Monday, Monday,...

Sat, 18 May 2013 15:50:15 +0800

ohcardigan:

Medley, Tegan and Sara (My Number, Monday, Monday, Monday, You Wouldn’t Like Me, We Didn’t Do It, Superstar, Speak Slow, Sentimental Tune, On Directing, I Know, I Know, I Know)

i uploaded the medley that they did if anyone’s interested but i’m sure everyone has watched some other uploads of it or smth but i’ll just keep this here i love it when they move away from the mic (0:25) at the same time it gives me such a tingly feeling i don’t know why???????

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Sat, 18 May 2013 14:29:39 +0800

am afraid of my good days/ of feeling content because it never stays long enough/ perhaps we are...

Sat, 18 May 2013 14:17:06 +0800

am afraid of my good days/ of feeling content because it never stays long enough/ perhaps we are still not friends. I am pretty certain of myself/ do things I might not be proud of/ but I never harm others/ never do harm to others, ever/

(it is not enough/ my stillness is never enough)

I am being pushed at all sides/ have gathered enough expectations to spontaneously combust (this always scared me more, because we are fully capable, physically and mentally capable, to spontaneously combust) I already feel I am a cloud of dust/ fleeting and dissipating/ I feel endless and airborne/ but I want to be rooted and earthbound/ want to know I am needed and protected/ All I feel is scattered.

I am afraid of passion/ don’t ever want to love something that has the option to walk away from me/ am already losing things that aren’t even mine. I look at my hands and wonder the lines, if they are worth anything/ if I went to a fortune teller, would he exchange my lines for his?

« this feeling breaks me when I am most brittle/ but I am more than surrenders/ I am more than white flags/ I will tarry on because my blood is the colour that has stained rose petals and war soils/ the stories of bravery and impassioned perseverance courses through me infinitely/ I will not let my mind discredit my body’s courage at living/ I am better than this»>

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Sat, 18 May 2013 12:30:49 +0800

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Sat, 18 May 2013 12:22:27 +0800

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Sat, 18 May 2013 12:18:32 +0800

"What thing worthy of love can be found in me?"

Sat, 18 May 2013 12:10:11 +0800

“What thing worthy of love can be found in me?”

- Franz Kafka, from Letters To Milena (via 24ribs)

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Sat, 18 May 2013 12:09:07 +0800

"We tend to think animals are lower than us, but all the scientists in the world couldn’t design and..."

Sat, 18 May 2013 01:21:44 +0800

“We tend to think animals are lower than us, but all the scientists in the world couldn’t design and operate a bumblebee’s wing. We can’t jump or run very fast, and we can’t carry vast weights like an ant can. We can’t see in the dark and we can’t fly except crammed in a noisy tube like sardines, which doesn’t count. Humans compared to animals are almost totally deaf, and we can’t smell a fart in an elevator by their standards. We are finite and separate, and neurotic, while the consciousness of an animal is at peace and eternal. We strive and go crazy to become more important. Animals rest and sleep and enjoy the company of each other. We think we have evolved upwards from animals but we have lost almost all of their qualities and abilities. The idea that animals don’t have consciousness or that they don’t have a soul is rather crass. It shows a lack of consciousness. They talk, they have families, they feel things, they act individually or together to solve problems, they often care of their young as a tribal unit. They play, they travel, and medicate themselves when they get sick. They cry when others in the herd die, they know about us humans. Of course they have a soul, a very pristine one. We humans are only now attempting with the recent rise in consciousness to achieve the soul that animals have naturally.”

- Stuart Wilde (via commovente)

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Fri, 17 May 2013 23:19:18 +0800

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Fri, 17 May 2013 22:06:22 +0800

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Fri, 17 May 2013 22:05:44 +0800

charliexxx: imma-gay-panda: My girlfriend bites..a...

Fri, 17 May 2013 19:40:16 +0800

charliexxx:

imma-gay-panda:

My girlfriend bites..a lotttt.

Oh.

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Fri, 17 May 2013 19:36:57 +0800