Titelt

Breath on breath. Gravity slipping behind

Me: my Tumblr is still out there?? Anyhow, I took a look. It's been years. I do miss Tumblr from the olden days: poems, art, photos, fandom, cats, even the hentai.

this burden will be lifted off my shoulders- i'll finally be able to escape the- the blood ocean and curl up in ryan goslings arms and just "oh, i'm safe, finally."

Every time I read it I feel space inside my chest expand in very *emotion* way.

theres a lot more art work he did for this. Go check it out https://buren_a.artstation.com/

Here you go. This world is beautiful. Humans are beautiful. I love you

Far from what I once was // Not yet what I am going to be

Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

patron saints of one way trips

nothig has hit like this since leith ross' we'll never have sex

Every time a guy writes a song, he's a cowboy, a sailor Playing with the world in his palm like the first pioneer. Every time he opens his mouth, it's a loud movie trailer Clipping every image and sound he thinks proves he was here. A hand, a spike, a physical fight, A flash of light, a curtain, A toll, a tithe, the passage of time, A height, a dive, a burden, A girl, a night, a typical type, A siren in the water, A scroll, a nod, a message from God, A son, a Holy Father. Every time a guy writes a song, he's a sailor, a cowboy Holding out the world in his palm like he made it himself. Every time I open my mouth, I think, "Wow, what a loud noise!" Still on the soapbox, just hoping I seem underwhelmed. The hand, the pen, the writing again, The Wind around the Willow, The felt, the ice, the passage of time, The melting down the window, The ‘now’, the ‘then’, the thinking of "when", The bottle in the ocean, The strike, the pause, the message from - God forbid she shows emotion. This isn't rage, it's worth a mention. This is a fake internal tension. Sometimes, I spread out one opinion And stand on its back to gauge attention. This isn't rage, it's too specific. I like to hate symbolic limits. This is no statement, I'm complicit. This is a dream, GOD put me in it. A hand, a spike, a physical fight, The Wind around the Willow, A toll, a tithe, the passage of time, The melting down the window, The now, the then, the thinking of "when", The siren in the water, The strike, the pause, a message from God. Does that make me His daughter? A hand, a shove, a valley, a jump, A score under the wire, Just sweep me up, just sweep me up And take me somewhere higher, Just sweep me up, just sweep me up And take me somewhere higher, Just sweep me up, just sweep me up And take me somewhere higher.

I feel like I just had a religious experience

— Ursula K. Le Guin