#dc#batman#dc comics#bruce wayne#batfam#dc fanart#dick grayson#tim drake#batfamily
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So neither of us knows how to speak anymore. It's like we've rebuilt the Babylon tower, only this time it's silent and still. Where have our words gone?
A.D.
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now I miss you
Saturday night, it’s been a whole goddamn week in which I haven't stopped thinking about you once. And I don't know if fate had walked me there or it’s my starving heart and the emptiness between my arms outstretched for way too long but I’ve never been so fulfilled as I were that night. After the sun fell down under the heavy ground and the moon flee in the glory of my best night. I kissed my bestest friend good-night and crossed my fingers for an hour straight. Got there at the exact time, 7:55 pm. I waited twenty five minutes for the play to start and another twenty five for you to show up on stage. It was dark as the lights went off but I assume you’ve seen my smile. It said: “I don’t know you, but I will love you fast and mad." And I think you knew those eyes, they had lighten up for yours in less than the time I took in between breaths. I guess we’re moving fast. I brought the couple of marshmallows you asked for but I couldn't help and take a bite. My tongue was burning for a cigarette to poison my lungs but by the end of the night you were all my lips were craving.
I absolutely love your blog. It just gives me so many beautiful feelings. Thank you ♥
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People. Living humans, breathing creatues, packs of bones with cold hands even when the sun shines on their veins. I’m trying to decipher them, and maybe some of them, a handful, are trying to decipher me. But how could we? How could we, when we’re not even able to read ourselves. So many things we don’t know. Like, how could I ever know the number of the freckles colliding on my back, how faded they are. If there even are any. Or the length of my hair in the back. Or the veins behind my ears. And poets wrote masterpieces describing their lovers skin, its tones, its warmth, with tact and endless number of details.
So maybe we can never know ourselves without someone else challenging us, like we challenge them. Maybe we all have soulmates, made to read in our palms, to write on our cheeks, to paint them with shyness. But what about the lonesome? The ones with their spine untouched. Who is going to decipher them? Who is going to plant seeds in their blooming gardens of minds. I, myself, could be one of them. I meet people, and I love them. I know love, I care for green eyes, and blue and yellow.
And I trust nature, I trust in the high skies above. I have faith in everything living, metamorphosing within every second. But I do not trust myself. Not at all. I can’t catch glimpses of my mind, and when I rarely do, at night. The slip away by the time the sunrise paints the sky in red. And so I go everyday, pulling every string I get to lay my hands on. Only for later, to be wishing to float away. To leave them all behind, afraid that too much love can make you shatter.
Flee to my dear woods. In the dark, sustained by fairytales, forest. To lay my head on grass, and my soul to grow among summertime blossoms. To let them trail my skin into a map. To live inside my art and die outside the world, in my own. To distance myself from everyone I love, in order for us not to do irreparable harm to each other. My mind is the most confusing labyrinth I’ve ever found myself in. And after all the travelling inside it, facing the cruelest monsters I, myself created. I reach meadows and find peace, for the shortest of while. Till again, the horryfing nigthmares creep back into me, disturbing my sleep. And so I find myself running away from the nightime, or the daytime. Or life itself, only hoping that maybe, this time, I won’t be trapped again. But the sound of forests is echoing my name, inside my mind. Enticing me in, calling eternal sleep. And I might just answer.
have you ever had that feeling? that you'd like to go to a whole different place and become a whole different self?
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
"Singurătatea poate fi o cameră goală şi rece sau, din contră, o cameră în care s-au adunat prea mulţi. "
- A.D.
You say you love me
and I answer with a gasp
because I knew.
But then you say you can't.
I gasp again,
I knew that too.
Nu mai cred
în generozitate, în oamenii care te privesc în ochi să-ţi spună adevărul, în zâmbete, în îmbrăţişări, în săruturi, în ploaie, în dumnezeu salvatorul, în lifturi, în încuietorile uşilor, în jeleuri, în vecini, în iertarea altora, în teneşi, în becuri, în fluturi, în vânt, în pânza de desen, în cer, în cuvinte. nu mai cred. în întorsăturile vieţii şi în cum pentru o persoană până ieri erai insignifiantă şi azi e mereu acolo pentru tine, în cuvintele rostite de oamenii pe care îi ştii de mult, în ora exactă, în promisiunile pe care le facem, în visurile pe care nu le îndeplinim, în curaj, în Făt-Frumos (Chirilă avea dreptate, a fugit de mult şi şi-a luat cu el şi calul), în speranţele pe care ni le şoptim. cred în timp, în inimă, în schimbare, în trecut, în mare. în cei care au rămas, chiar dacă eu nu am făcut-o. mi-e dor de voi toţi, în mii şi mii de feluri.
