â[H]oliness is not the denial but the acceptance of being creatures.â
â Rowan Williams, Ceation, Creativity, Creatureliness: the Wisdom of Finite Existence
will byers stan first human second
Cosmic Funnies
Mike Driver

â
taylor price
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

JVL

izzy's playlists!
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
AnasAbdin
we're not kids anymore.

tannertan36

Love Begins
Xuebing Du

çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation

#extradirty
Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă

ellievsbear
$LAYYYTER

Discoholic đŞŠ

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@meadams
â[H]oliness is not the denial but the acceptance of being creatures.â
â Rowan Williams, Ceation, Creativity, Creatureliness: the Wisdom of Finite Existence

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Weather, Jenny Offill
It donât smell like him
No more
Donât smell like him
No more
I threaten to quit them
I swear Iâll do it
Desperation to hurt
Hurt over you dear
My dear
I beg so quietly
You donât notice me under the table

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I can
Smell you a million miles
Away from me you are
A lifetime away but
This distance grew in one moment
Only I prayed for
You only lick my
Tears up like a stray
Dog lap at my
Wounds I have so many hurt me
Heal me taste
Me I am here
To serve your senses
I will give you anything
Beg for it
Lick me like I am
Unkempt and longing I am
Thinking of the girl who didnât change her clothes for three days
I hope people say âoh that poor girlâ
Pity is milk on midnight cereal
Oh you know the one

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âThose lovers are mostly gone. My hands remainâ: like altars.â
â Natalie Diaz, from The Hand Has Twenty-Seven Bonesâ: These Hands If Not Gods
Renato Mambor, Capovolto. (1963)
Eat me up
I am your tiny girl
Tiny girl on the dance floor
I eat you up
You dream about me eating you up
âWe donât forget, but something vacant settles in us.â
â Roland Barthes, from Mourning Diary

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Mary Shelley, from a letter to Percy Bysshe Shelley (1814) / Joanna Newsom - âOnly Skinâ (2006)
At night on the freeway through Indiana
Wind turbines blink
The black night
Miles of red stars
The black night
Miles of red stars