December 2011
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I will spread myself like wings.
I am a billion tiny feathers.
You have no...
– Dave Eggers (via beautyisanillusion)
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“You look good,” he says over the bassline, a glass of melting ice in his hand, cold rivulets flooding his wrist. “Better than I ever did,” I reply, and he begins to sway with the heat.
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Amanda will be in Knoxville at 11:40 tomorrow morning. Therefore, everything else is irrelevant.
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The lights go out while your family sings and ignites candles slashing orange fire below your cheekbones like Hell itself lies under your tongue, between your teeth. (At least that’s where I always found it.)
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when you died, i couldn’t understand the well where sympathy or pain should come up in buckets like water for the village of simple people living somewhere dry and sunny, too hot in july. i twisted the ropes from homemade childhood swings of tires hung from the tallest branch of the oak tree outside the kitchen window where your mother watches you, baking pies and stealing hits from your...
modestmark:
“hot as fuck” I want to take your pants off I want to be listening to modest mouse and take your pants off, straight up. I will dance with you I will take mine off too if you are comfortable with that I just want you to be comfortable, ok? I like your legs, they are the kind I am attracted to, personally I can feel them with my tongue, ok? I want to make my cold hands warm...
sm0ked0pe:
Get in my face. Fucking scream at me. Fucking push me. Fucking do something. Fucking be fucked up with me. Match me. Be just as stupid. Be just as messed up. Push me to do more. That’s what I need. I don’t need passive, I don’t need understanding. I need blood. I need bruises.
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well, it’s ten minutes left of christmas, and the lights don’t shine so bright from the suburban yards when you leave your mother’s house with nothing but time but nowhere to be.
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I.
lifeinthearctic:
christmas, alone. 12.25.11
no gift budget, no wrapping paper. no ribbons, no bows. no painful family dinners, or decorating the tree with the ornaments your mother bought exclusively from pier 1. your brother’s not trying to grab my ass. your father’s not subtly telling you how you could do better - anyone who complains about being alone on christmas has never pulled an...
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I hang like a wreath on the wall, still and demure, strongly woven, but not the center, resenting how a Christmas tree glows in the corner of the room, and everyone stops and stares.
Anonymous asked: I love you so much, but do me a favor baby don't reply, because I can dish it out, but I can't take it.
Anonymous asked: My turnoff is bad grammar. You know, because I can't control anything but the english language.
the girl least likely to.: I'm doing this →
ionlywantedtobegin:
Day 01 - Your favorite Brand New song. Day 02 - When you became a Brand New fan. Day 03 – The first Brand New song you heard. Day 04 - Your favorite song from Your Favorite Weapon. Day 05 - Your favorite song from Deja Entendu. Day 06 – Your favorite song from The Devil and God… Day 07 – Your favorite song from Daisy. Day 08 – Your favorite Brand New demo. Day 09 –...
My number-one turnoff is bad spelling.
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The stars say I’m a slut and a philosopher, and one cannot argue with the sky.
Anonymous asked: I can say you weren't drinking alone, this bottle of wine disappeared and I'm not sure who the culprit is, I can't even remember, where I could have been.
I don’t want to be the person who reblogs the Brand New question post, but it’s so tempting.
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And it’s not “clever lonely” (like Morrissey) or “interesting lonely” (like...
– Chuck Klosterman Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs (via undeadlife)
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I light a cigarette from behind my own hand, with my own lighter from my own pocket, seventy-eight cents in the checkout line at the grocery store where I bought two bottles of wine that I will drink by myself in my studio apartment and wish for the courage to admit I’m tired of saying I’m okay with dying alone.
madcatterv2:
there’s always a lot of homosexual tension on the holidays
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Take the shorter staircase, lumbered steps and all, so long as you stare straight ahead, pin-sentinel and silent, or dancing, or begging on corners between two places you’re already been.
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Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It’s all...
– Chuck Palahniuk (via sugafix)
cardinalrx asked: GO TOUCH YOUR LOCKER OR SOMETHING
Anonymous asked: Oh yeah don't get me wrong, a few pieces have been incredible, i was just curious if there was something that happened, some reason why your writing has been affected.
Anonymous asked: Your writing seems a little forced as of late
Anonymous asked: Yellow: Our souls are broken. Is there no hope?
Wake up, Tumblr. I know you’re not sleeping.
No plans all night becomes bowls become a drink becomes insomnia becomes taking Xanax at two-thirty so I can sleep.