Plain Color Tumblr Themes
I am sorry for thinking of drowning myself in the
bathtub because the lakes here are far too murky,
and I wanted to be found

(Source: openhearteyeswings, via fallawakewithme)





Sex is not a goddamn performance. Sex should feel as natural as drinking water. It should not require confidence.

Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe. Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.

You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh. It’s not about being “good in bed.” It’s about being happy.

One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.

What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you. Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.

Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be. I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.

I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want. It’s originality. It’s passion. It’s joy. Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.

I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.

“Good in bed,” what. You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you. Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel. This isn’t a test.


(Source: nikolaiolivier, via livewellovemuch)





I keep a little bottle of happiness
tucked in my left pocket
so that when the world
is particularly heavy
I can rub a little on my wrist
and breathe it in
before carrying on with my day. 



#writing  #poetry  


I sit before flowers
hoping they will train me in the art
of opening up

(Source: buddhacoffee, via livewellovemuch)





I am only a lost girl
with tangled hair
who never really comes home

(Source: quarrelling, via livewellovemuch)





I’m looking at a body of water 
from above,
then from inside.
Above us
the light 
reaches in
and makes 
green rings.
But here,
where it’s deep,
there is no color.
Here,
where the dams 
of our bodies
have flooded, 
we dissolve back
into the family 
of shadows.
I think of calling you
by your name,
but in the dark
it would be treason
against us.
When I do not name you,
you are everywhere
and no new face
can frighten me.



#spilled ink  


I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.

(Source: conflictingheart, via fallawakewithme)





when men started
calling me beautiful, i cut
off all my hair and let the
woman give it to someone
who deserved the title
more.

i was raised in a home where people
walked around me as if i were a thin
sheet of glass. tip toes tips and
toes, they left me

believing that there were no such thing
as shadows.

they taught me to have faith in a god.
in myself. to believe in love and happiness
and everything that doesn’t break, but

nothing moves me anymore. not even
the memories. not even the soft hinges

of the past. i’m wearing my skin and it
clatters when i walk, and

no one prepared me for
this.


(Source: commovente, via livewellovemuch)





Hermits in our bodies,
our hands danced in the air around the spinning blades.
We licked our lips and chose certainty.
We bled,
and ran the bath until it flowed over and flooded the house and carried us away on our mattress…or did we drown?

We built cities and burned them down.
At night, I unwrapped your bandages while the others slept.
You’d twist your arm around in the lamplight and I’d press my tongue to the crease and taste metal.
All of us prayed to the candle in secret while the flame danced wildly in the dark like a predator, some burned their bodies in protest.
We’d fold our legs and hold our spines straight and watch the skin slide off the bones.
We were scavengers seeking pockets of electric sky through dirty windows. 

We’d return,
again and again, as newborns, blind and naked,
rolling around in the soil of our own ashes.



#spilled ink  


You are not a pear, you are not an hourglass, you are not an apple; you are a human being, with bumps and crevices and scars. You are a million shapes rolled into one. You are a universe within yourself. You are a human being, and you are magnificent.

(Source: babiesinatrenchcoat, via be-one-accept-all)





There was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the stars.

(Source: seabois, via livewellovemuch)





I dream about having a house by the water and not doing anything, not feeling ambitious, nor having the need to make money.

(Source: seabois, via fallawakewithme)





Ideally, what should be said to every child, repeatedly, throughout his or her school life is something like this: ‘You are in the process of being indoctrinated. We have not yet evolved a system of education that is not a system of indoctrination. We are sorry, but it is the best we can do. What you are being taught here is an amalgam of current prejudice and the choices of this particular culture. The slightest look at history will show how impermanent these must be. You are being taught by people who have been able to accommodate themselves to a regime of thought laid down by their predecessors. It is a self-perpetuating system. Those of you who are more robust and individual than others will be encouraged to leave and find ways of educating yourself — educating your own judgements. Those that stay must remember, always, and all the time, that they are being moulded and patterned to fit into the narrow and particular needs of this particular society.’

(Source: larmoyante, via fallawakewithme)