February 2011
Anonymous asked: what happened?
january 31, 2011. the saddest day in the world.
January 2011
o-yster asked: Nice blog-please check mine out.
Thankyou
Thankyou
2 tags
Anonymous asked: why hello there lovely, I am sitting on the
edge of the impartial
bed, I have been turned to crystal, you enter....
^^this poem by margaret atwood, WHERE is it?!!!! lol i've been looking up and down left and right for it, google has never been so useless! i am told it comes from circled games, but how could it possibly not be on the internet? will i feel dumb with...
edge of the impartial
bed, I have been turned to crystal, you enter....
^^this poem by margaret atwood, WHERE is it?!!!! lol i've been looking up and down left and right for it, google has never been so useless! i am told it comes from circled games, but how could it possibly not be on the internet? will i feel dumb with...
I’m almost never serious, and I’m always too...
… the writer is more enriched by ordeals than by peace.
Anaïs Nin, Henry and June (via lascenariste)
1 tag
2 tags
2 tags
Her Kind - Anne Sexton
I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night; dreaming evil, I have done my hitch over the plain houses, light by light: lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind. I have found the warm caves in the woods, filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves, closets, silks, innumerable goods; fixed...
Everyone in me is a bird. I am beating all my...
(via thelittlesea)
2 tags
1 tag
2 tags
2 tags
I like women who haven’t lived with too many men. I don’t expect virginity but I simply prefer women who haven’t been rubbed raw by experience.
There is a quality about women who choose men sparingly; it appears in their walk in their eyes in their laughter and in their gentle hearts.
Women who have had too many men seem to choose the next one out of revenge rather than with feeling.
...
In this world, there are things you can only do...
Human relationships didn’t work anyhow. Only the first two weeks had any zing, then the participants lost their interest. Masks dropped away and real people began to appear: cranks, imbeciles, the demented, the vengeful, sadists, killers. Modern society had created its own kind and they feasted on each other. It was a duel to the death…in a cesspool.
Charles Bukowski - Women, 1978
2 tags
1 tag
I do not remember very many things from the inside out. I do not remember what it felt like to touch things, or how bathwater traveled over my skin. I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my...
1 tag