welcome september!

looking forward to: ????

currently conquering: the return of school

music: long way home - 5 seconds of summer

well, you know me. i've got so much to say about love.


*teenager voice* society

08.27.14     + 43805     via / src


Accessories for the diehard breakfast fans at Anya Hindmarch Fall/Winter 2014

08.27.14     + 3000     via / src
"Wishing I were bigger than these moments,
smothered in hands, passing through my old bodies,
shedding a luscious fur that drips from my shoulders
like a whore in a girlie magazine, wishing I were greater
than desire, so over its poesy whatever, wishing you hadn’t
left me in June, wishing you were here, kissing me goodbye
in the porch light. It’s a sweet montage, we’re laughing ugly
and smiling at each other,the night expanding like a lung.
So we drive with all the windows down,
grinning into the blue, legs crossed, not both of them mine,
the car sliding down the road like a streaming blotch
on a reel of film. Lying on Sol’s couch, soft and molted,
palming my phone, your phantom weight on my stomach,
trying to send this, hoping at the very least to startle you into love,
not love with me, but love as a verb,
hoping you’ll see the bullshit in that sentence,
regretting this already."

TEXTS FROM LAST NIGHT, by Gabriella Gonzales, Winter Tangerine Review, Volume Three  (via wildflowerveins)
"I think I might always be in some kind of love with you."

— F. Cabanes (via bl-ossomed)


when you say poolnoodle cucumberbench is unattractive and ppl go “are  [picture of him] you [gif of him] confused [extreme hq pic]” and i’m like yeah no that dude’s ugly you just keep posting pictures of the ugly dude what am i supposed to do with this information

me (dating a girl named liz and also taking a delicious lasagna out of the oven): hey anyone want some liz on ya? well you can't, she's mine. hahahaha. okay liz you can go home now I only dated you to make that joke


Jenny Holzer, “Survival Series”

08.27.14     + 14483     via / src
"I know this sounds weird but I wonder what my bed sheets say about me when Iʼm not around.
I wonder what the curtains would do if they found out about all the things Iʼve done behind their back.
I have a hamper thatʼs overflowing with really, really loud mistakes
and a graveyard in my closet.
Iʼm afraid if I let you see my skeletons,
youʼd grind my bones into powder and get high off my fault lines."

Rudy Francisco, My Honest Poem (via angryasianfeminist)