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GPOY as a black girl.

(Source: ohboy-youstandbyme, via fuck-bitches-get-money)

Well, you and potatoes…

(Source: llisbeths, via thejourneyofmymind)

paleopostmodernism:

what if i throw up all over her?

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View high resolution

Science. Fact.

(Source: dayofthebaphomets, via betsy-in-tardis)

Sleep Cycle by Dean Young

We cannot push ourselves away

from this quiet, even in our sprees

of inattention, the departing passengers   

stubbing out their smokes, arrivees in tears,   

lots of cellophane, the rumpus over parking.

Wind scrapes leaves across the road,   

first flashes of snow, it is dark then

it’s really dark. Forgive me for not

writing for so long, I’ve been

right beside you, one of the vaguer

divinities blocking your way with its need   

to confess all its botched attempts at love,   

what started the whole mess. I love this place,   

its absurd use of balustrade, the chairs   

that dig into the spine, motorcyclists   

propping their drunk girlfriends in the sun,   

men playing timed chess with themselves,   

the guarantees and warnings that entice us   

to the brink of what they warn about.

But we can do no more than pass through   

these rooms and their sudden chills   

where once a plea was entered almost   

unintentionally that seemed at last   

to reveal ourselves to ourselves,

immaculate, bereft, deserving to be found.

chrismenning:

BRB guys. Focken some wulves.

(via fuckyeahdementia)

(Source: eaglegiantw00d, via c-a-p-n)