Aug 12
My heart is an altar were I worship your shadow.
- C. Baudelaire
The Flowers of Evil
Loading...
seen from Russia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Maldives
seen from Spain
seen from France
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
My heart is an altar were I worship your shadow.
- C. Baudelaire
The Flowers of Evil
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
These boots are made for workin, and that’s just what they’ll do. One of these days these boots are gonna walk out of here
Happy 'there will come soft rains' day
I would just like to congratulate everyone on not being in a NECULUR post-apocalyptic world though it may feel like end time and though we are no where near peace times we are at least one step above nuclear apocalypse, so yay. I would also like to give shout out to anyone in Allendale California.
"'Today is August 4, 2026,' said a second voice from the kitchen ceiling, 'in the city of Allendale, California.' It repeated the date three times for memory's sake. 'today is Mr. Featherstone's birthday. Today is the anniversary of Tilita's marriage. Insurance is payable, As are the water, gas, and light bills.'
- 'There will Come Soft Rains' by Ray Bradbury
i think one of the most amazing things i have ever experienced is literature's ability to inflict emotion. it is truly a gift that some writers have the ability to make you feel so deeply simply through words on paper. i have experienced this time after time (most notably with of mice and men), and it never fails to impress me. i feel as if the sorrow inflicted in literature is more agonizing than that of visual media, and the happiness is much more powerful. the aptitude authors have to be able to describe a visual scene with as much vibrancy as they do is incredible nonetheless, but the ability to convey raw emotion in such a way is truly admirable. it just touches my heart and soul more effectively, especially when it comes to humour and sarcasm in dialogue. the elegance some writers have when describing emotion in a character is truly beautiful, and when a writer can do it well, it is their greatest tool.
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
Has anyone ever looked into why Sade was like that? Was he just born that way or like did something happen to him or what....?
my fuckass brother's calling me lazy for spending time writing. Blud only thinks physical activity counts as productivity. Uneducated swine. He doesn't know I'm literally thankyoujangofett.
A slice makes the world go 'round
Oh me,
Oh my
My cherry pie
Filled with pits to choke me
As red as the kiss I thought we shared
But it was more teeth than sweet puree
I've tried setting the oven, but you preferred broil and I watched it turn
golden
Crisp
Then burnt.
I can still smell the faint sweetness of the cherries and the pits that rose into the crust
I pulked it out by foil to check the over baked crust of what was still cherished and made with love
I found hot lava tar with bubbling of what was
And partially uncooked cherries
I still got the best piece for you
Maybe a little under baked
I even got it on your favorite plate
Scoop of ice cream to hide the burnt taste
Homemade Whipped cream to hide the distasteful sight
I sat it on the table and waited for you
the whipped cream melted by night
Followed by a puddle of ice cream
The pie got soggy and turned to mush
Your chair is still empty now with dust in your place
I have the dust bunnies holding your spoon
They refused to eat it too
Instead they left a payment of fuzz that invited the mold
The mold turned into a red carpet that welcomed the flies in like the receptionist desk at a motel at midnight
I watched your chair and waited for you to make a creak to see what I've made for you.
To see the cherry pie I've made for you with love.
Poem by key (me ⊙﹏⊙)
