(via wxstfull)
what if our nipples were flavored based on personality? Like if you were a sweet person you would have vanilla nipples or if you were mean you would have black licorice nipples and if you were a bitchass you would have banana flavored nipples.
what the fuck did I just read
(via kingharris)
i love catfish so much because they act like theyre fbi agents or something when theyre really just using reverse google image search
i thought you meant the animal and let me tell you that was a wild minute of me trying to figure out the psychology of fish thinking they’re federal law enforcement
(via kingharris)
(via ink-trails)
I’d paint my walls with it.
Some days they’d look like flowers
blooming beneath Winter skies
when the snow’s stopped falling
for a little while to let us breathe.Other days, they’d be paint water
spilt on the floor and we’d lie arms
outstretched over them, staring at
the ceiling, soaking up…
They call me
“romantic” with
knives between
their lips, as if I am
asking for each word
to be built from the
ground from flower
beds and open
hearts.
They do not
understand
my romance.
I want to be strung
up by my ankles,
ripped open, emptied,
and told that what
I am made of is
beautiful, even as it
stains the kitchen
floor, your skin, our
conversations.
There is infinite
romance in truth.
I do not want to be
bottled, gathering
time in your shelves
until your birthday
or a bad night or
after she leaves when
you just need
something to help
you fall asleep.
In my romance,
I am not
swallowed whole.
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