@oozins

/ arthur rimbaud / alessia cara /

@/albapetrichor on instagram

/

@/mathildasearth on instagram

/ peach pit / the greeting committee /

@/peggyshootsfilm on instagram

Louise Glück, From Descending Figure; “Epithalamium”

shattered; rebuilt — a poem by castiel

“I called out from the deepest part. I feel concave, inverted for you. I’ll be screaming through the afterlife, I’ll be hunting for you, buried under flowers”

— Chelsea Wolfe, from the lyrics of Two-Spirit; Hiss Spun (2017)

“I only want a patron saint to protect me. / I only want someone else to bleed.”

— Natalie Scenters-Zapico, from “Paper Cuts,” published in Poem-a-Day (via lifeinpoetry)

ok first of all i didnt "miss" the red flags i looked them and thought yeah thats sexy

@teslacoils-and-hubris, I can only use ten pictures per post, but what I mean is this; the idea of knowing means more when what you know about them is that they have been hurtful.

"I love you even though you have scars" will never feel like the love carried in the message "I will love you even though you have scarred so many others."

"I will love you although you are hurt" is not the same as "I will love you although you have hurt others, although you deserve to hurt".

The idea of knowing, truly knowing, someone and seeing every sin they have committed and still choosing to believe they can be loved? That they will love you back when you have no proof they have ever loved anyone but themselves?

That is the rawest form of love. That is an affection beyond comprehension. That is holding fate in your hands and rewriting the end of the world to be just a bit kinder. This is the type of love I think your blog represents

LOVE AS RELIGION

hozier, take me to church // richard siken, litany in which certain things are crossed out // taylor swift, false god // fleabag, phoebe waller-bridge // sacrilege, yeah yeah yeahs // madonna, like a prayer // depeche mode, personal jesus

“Touch conceals all kinds of violence and all kinds of gentleness, as well as all the violent gentle things. In a certain sense all touch is violent. The softest of touches puts a limit on intactness, yours or mine.”

— Portraits of Portraits: The Very Day/Light of Roni Horn, Hélène Cixous, tr. Eric Prenowitz
(via bluebeardsbride)

Am I some sort of infection? 
Did I make you go insane? 
Did I make the sounds go sour? 
Did I tell you to climb out the window? 
Forgive. Forgive. 

  — from Anna Who Was Mad by Anne Sexton

“Let every kiss envy / our mouths. Let every kiss hit the body / like a season.”

— Ocean Vuong, from ‘A Little Closer to the Edge’, Night Sky With Exit Wounds