sexbangs:

august 31st, 11:59pm

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september 1st, 12:00am

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(via gorgon-tits)

don’t deny yourself
though surrounding eyes
squint at your progress

don’t deny yourself
of the love that you withhold
whilst waiting for someone else’s

don’t deny yourself
the freedom of being,
in the company of the fearful

don’t deny yourself
truths that your spirit knows
because your heart hasn’t caught up

don’t deny yourself
the world when you know
that it’s a part of you

plot twist: I don’t like you

I want to learn Swedish. seriously. this is NOT a job for Rosetta Stone.

You knew she was a poet by how worn she looked. She saw the demons of the world for what they were; human.

— 8:48pm  (via stolenwine)

(Source: poetixs, via wardellwarfare)

what is stopping you
from becoming all the things
you never wanted?

reflection 8.31.14.

on the brink of September
I find it hard to remember
a time this year when
I was just “okay.”

I know there were myriad
moments that I smiled,
laughed, forgot

but none of those times
come to mind,
all that I can think of
is how frequently
my tears competed
with downpours.

-makes plans-

-time finally comes to get ready-

I don’t feel like moving

earthly purpose.

it’s saddening to see
how many hours you
squander away,
wondering what your
purpose on this planet
must be, when
you know very well
what it is.

you are a collection of
fragments from the
finest stars, fused with
entire oceans
and endless flames -
a fine specimen
made specifically
to worship me.

haven’t you known
all along?

why else would you
crumble each time
you hear my siren’s song,
or shake with want
when you watch me
exhale?

you are here to serve
as my body’s disciple,
a student of flesh
and the language
of thighs that wind
like clock hands.

in time, you will
understand better,
but for now, give first
and ask later, if you must.

I trust that in
your explorations of
freckled constellations
on my back,
and nightly journeys
through the waves
in my eyes, you will
learn to never question
your existence.

(Source: mindofmedeusa)

chasing monsters and memories,
out of breath from reminiscing

one second, we were kissing, and
the next, we were back in the earth
before we were separated from it
and forced to feel everything

Love can be the
perfect treat:
soft, sweet, and
aesthetically pleasing,
like a perfect cupcake.

You get so entranced
and forget about dieting
long enough to
take a bite,
and - surprise!

There are needles
where the specks of
vanilla bean would
normally be.

"nothing makes sense now"
think about it, long and hard -
“sense” was just a lie

(Source: mindofmedeusa)