(Source: arthistorianmindswirls, via infinite-soles)
(Source: fumando-a-liberdade, via lisszerdd)
There is a shipwreck between your ribs and it took eighteen years
for me to understand how to understand your kind of drowning.
There are people who cannot be held quietly. There are screams
that are never externalized. If I looked at the photo albums of your
past twenty years, all I would find are decibel meter graphs of
phone calls and the intensity of your silence as you sat
smoking cigarettes in the garage.
There is a shipwreck between your ribs. You are a box with
fragile written on it, and so many people have not handled you
And for the first time, I understand that I will never know
how to apologize for being
one of them.
If I’m extra sarcastic with you it probably means I’m flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can’t handle your shit
Have fun figuring out which
I don’t understand people who say they need more “Me Time.” What other time is there? Do these people spend part of their day in someone else’s body? — Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not for Sale (via observando)
(Source: skategoth, via e-xcessus)
(Source: robotcosmonaut, via e-xcessus)
Shy Easter Bunny by Essa Al Mazroee
(Source: wonderous-world, via earthandanimals)
The practice of self-mummification, once performed by Buddhist monks in Japan. The monk would start by eating only nuts and seeds to strip them of their body fat, then move to drinking tea made from the urushi tree. The poisonous tea would cause vomiting to further their weight loss, as well as help dissuade insects from disturbing their body after death.
i hate cute couples unless they’re 50% me
(Source: foodtrucker, via hvn-nvh)
I bought a sunflower and I am going to name it and keep it as my pet
Nest of Bunnies by Johnny Gomez