In the mornings I rolled onto my pillow and said, What’s today going to be...– Junot Diaz
I waited, as if the sea could make my decision for me.– Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (via in-finitus)
bees, my skin smells of sun, the insides of roses. I want to eat that...– Lyn Lifshin, Honeysuckle (via milktree)
brandnewswastikas: Sure, I’ll hit it, but I’ll never quit it. I love you.
why omg why no stop why why school weh weh weh
brandnewswastikas: Freaking out is boring.
To the left, to the left– Karl Marx (via johnsteinbeck-)
Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I’m not going to...– Charles Bukowski (via likeafieldmouse)
leah onomonopia: There’s rosemary, that’s for... →
leahonomonopia: There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts. There’s fennel for you, and columbines. There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me. We may call it herb of grace o’ Sundays. O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There’s…
Anonyme a demandé : that booty in blue you posted looks photoshopped ok
Anonyme a demandé : What are you currently reading? ( I assume your reading something)
Met Margaret Atwood this morning get on my level please
drarna: be the yoncé you want to see in the world
Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that crushed it.– Mark Twain (via andrewgibby)
Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad...– Margaret Atwood, Good Bones (via wforwander)
Swollen like a too-sweet summer peach saying: Pick me. Roll me against the heel of your palm, let me feel your teeth, your tongue; hold me in your mouth. Then swallow. I want to know what it is to be inside you.