Jul 29, 2020
@neiljostcn asked: moodboard + june claremont-diaz
“this is—this is good, june. why the hell aren’t you writing all our speeches?”
celebrate 100 with me!
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@neiljostcn asked: moodboard + june claremont-diaz
“this is—this is good, june. why the hell aren’t you writing all our speeches?”
celebrate 100 with me!
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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i had a dream about you
in a poem like mine i once read the line will you love me even more when i’m dead? my darling. will you? will you hold me tighter when i am cold and touch me softer when i no longer open my eyes to you calling my name? my name like an enchantment, my name like an incantation. will you want me more when i am gone? sweetheart, it isn’t your fault if love is fickle in that sort of way. you are only waiting. i am only dying. my name cast like a spell or a net or a fishing line. my name on your lips but i do not wake. will you weep, my darling? will you weep?
@andrewneils asked: moodboard + henry fox-mountchristen-windsor
i thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire.
celebrate 100 with me!
@crepuscular-shoelace asked: moodboard + poppet murray
“poppet reads the stars,” he explains to bailey. “it’s the easiest place to see the future.”
celebrate 100 with me!
@hazy-siren asked: moodboard + zoya nazyalensky
zoya of the lost city. zoya of the garden. zoya bleeding in the snow. you are strong enough to survive the fall.
celebrate 100 with me!
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.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
evanescence
oh, incandescence. oh, to lie on my back on a rooftop and squint my eyes and feel warm inside. in my head I look straight into the sun and pretend that to cry is to shine from the inside out.
oh, luminescence. oh, to be found, fleeting but for a moment fixed and for a moment fragmented and in my head sunshine can break into fractals too if it turns to ice first. if broken, fix. if fractured, heal. if only it was that simple. if only.
oh, iridescence. oh, to shine. here on an imagined rooftop with the roses at my feet and the sun rises and here is the sunshine as broken as I. a moment and a fractal or we condense and evaporate or we fly and in my head the sunshine will carry me home.
nox
you lie in the grass on the hill as you always have. you are watching the stars, your companions for longer than you can remember. (which isn’t long at all, but you don’t think about it too much.) the thing about paradise is that you get too comfortable thinking you’ll always have what you have; you think: there will always be a night sky, a sky full of stars, a grassy hill and a cool spring breeze and each evening as perfect as the last. (if you were really thinking you’d notice you weren’t really thinking at all, only skimming the surface.) you only remember those stars and this hill, and there must have been day before it was night but all you see is dark, dark, dark and it’s harder to breathe than you can remember— can you remember—? recall the day, now. here is the night. here is the night sky. here is a night, the night, like the day never existed at all. and what a paradise this is.
on reimagining
surely you’ve already romanticized the sunset. not much left for a poet to do. surely you know that such a thing as the sunset has been watched and imagined and reimagined to the point of despair. oh, but not yet to the point of invention, never invention. it is not ever loved enough for that.
every day the sun sets. every night the sun sets. in between, we dream. depends on which way you’re looking at it. depends on when you decide to close your eyes, but surely it will happen. the sun has never not set before, so.