(Source: sundasill)
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Paradoxical Imaginings
oh.
hmmm.
art. poetry. politics. narcissism. ramblings.
destruction.reconstruction
any traces of sexism, racism, classism, transphobia, homophobia, body-shaming, purposeful ignorance (whether or not in the name of religion cock-gobbling), or any other general asshattery found in this vicinity shall promptly be purged/bitchslapped/educated by any means necessary. this means call me out if need be.
Wednesday, May 15
Tuesday, May 14
Monday, May 13
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is it just me or are all the guys on this site getting progressively more naked
*cough* now its your turn *cough*
taking off my glove flap
A glove flap good sir? How delightfully scandalous. Allow me to raise you…
a full glove.
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This is how the rain looks like when you’re up there.
BEST PHOTO IN EXISTENCE.
I love how it’s only over that town, like Nature decided to just fuck their day up.
(Source: harahana.blog110.fc2.com)
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“
I used to be gold. First prize
collarbones, atomic number
79.
I think of our bodies unhinging.
Dismantling a masterpiece we
worked so hard to build with
creased hands. A workshop of
cracking spines to straighten out
the way we would slouch.
Maintenance was: drilling openings
inside each others joints, stitching
ligaments, embroidering our hopes
beneath surfaces in cryptic codes
unseen.
When I arrived I was sun. Already
sweltering inside your pores,
glazing skin in honey residue.
My promises rinsed over in drizzling
rain, marinating your bones, flooding,
breaking into the current network
of your nerves.
Often, all I have are promises.
It starts with a loud rumbling noise
from the inside out, a vicious clap of
thunder rendering breathing patterns
defenceless. An expansion of pressure
that is too close for comfort.
When I think of slipped disks,
they remind me of those stepping stones
we crossed towards the Colosseum
we had in our minds.
We hung expectations from our shoulders.
Self depreciation is a gale force wind
who knocks once, twice, strikes fragility
down with her fury—ungluing the grip
beneath my feet, begging that I get familiar
with my knees.
She says, “You’re going to have to look at
them up close if you want to learn how to assess damage.”
When I unzipped my ribcage I saw those
impressions that you’d left on my heart,
ransacked awareness told me you’d been
here, moulding yourself between my
ventricles.
Last night I set a fire,
and watched as it burn the end
of the rope that I’d been holding
to keep you
close.
— Lauren Flynn, “I used to be gold.” (via commovente)
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Sunday, May 12
If you can’t concentrate in school because the mere sight of a girl’s bare leg is too much of a distraction, you are probably a danger to society tbh
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In other news I just watched the new The Gatsby Movie after reading the book for the first time a few weeks ago and both were so good skdjfhalksdjfh if you want to message me so we can explore the concepts and symbolism and characters totally you should do that yes yes
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I mean, really. Besides the fact that Jay didn’t truly love Daisy (he was in reality a self centered man who pulled the idea of Daisy into his little fantasy world, and in turn put her in a tough corner with his desire to fulfill his fantasy of her -which is horrible-), and the fact that Daisy was also a self centered socialite who honestly just hadn’t had the opportunity to create a personality for herself just because she’d grown up rich, pampered, beautiful, without a single day of work in her life-
besides all that, I’m not sure how you could even want a love like that, because it wasn’t even truly a love between two people. Literally every character in that book in reality is purely a symbol.
That’s like saying you wish you were the american dream and you had some poor fool chasing after you.
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i wish someone loved me the way Jay Gatsby loves Daisy
NO YOU DON’T
…Is that person actually serious.
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I strongly dislike this idea that progression in countries is measured by their imitation of western society.
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