Animated Inspiration

Still searching for my muse.

I’ve started to feel disastrous again.

The thoughts are back, sprinkled with malice and all that could go wrong.

The sighs are back. Deeper and longer although stretched out in time.

The walls are limited. Limiting.

My soul is heavy. Heavier still.

My eyes are weary. Tearing apart the world I inhabit with every glance.

I feel like a parasite.

A leech.

So I try not to hold on.

To grab ahold of.

I am the earths recessive nature.

I am the darkness that you adore.

The sounds you cannot, do not, will not hear.

I am all that and more.

(Source: wtfchrisstuff)


Jean Dieuzaide

Rue de Nazaré, Portugal, 1954

[via Le Clown Lyrique]

I am cinderblocks with remnants of graffiti faded on a stony exterior.

I am death like silence wishing away misery.

I am the taste of premium ice on the edge of a glass left uncovered.

I am conclusions left in disarray.

I am honey that’s been left out in the depraved heat for too long.

I am cold condensation and crystal cut mistaken shards.

I am the emptiness that lurks within you all.

I am nothing encompassed by it all.

I am creation left uncreated.

I am the glint in your third eye left untampered with.

I am. I am. I am.

I am not.

(Source: liquidnight)

My life,
in a novel
would exhibit
human fallibility interwoven
with pronounced italics
of dramatic enticement.

(Source: sparkliz)

The prose of Oscar Wilde.

(Source: rememberless)

If her kisses don’t make you smile,
She won’t be the one to walk down the aisle.

(Source: fifteenpoppies)

“The kind of love letters I write are the ones you read in bed, stretched out under the sheets with one hand between your legs.”
— Michael Faudet

(Source: onlysexiness, via tazmaniargh)

Medusa’s only sin was vanity.

(Source: milaballentine)

He’s starting to wind his arms around me again,
encircling my body with his strange familiar touch.
His tongue tasting the fear and ignorance etched onto my skin and scales.
How many times must I shun before the message transmitted is received?
How many more times can my faith keep me from faltering?
Not nearly enough as it takes.

(Source: jastinnn)

I as easily dissuaded as they come.
Bear this in mind.

(Source: enchantedconsole)

Every nerve is electrified in anticipation of your mouth upon mine.

(Source: lizethscream)

To those that judge and come to their subjective conclusions of characters unknown.
To deserted frauds masquerading as friends.
To the damnable and undeniable.
To society’s flawed ideals and notions of regularity.
To every single person that has said ‘You can’t’
To the liars, the cheaters, the hapless, the hopeless.
The broken, the destitute, the demonic and doubtful.
The manipulative bastards whose words we absorb.
The deceitful countenances of our bureaucracy.
To everyone that won’t stand up for themselves.
To the crippled minds of this generation.
This is it.

(Source: cl0thes0ff, via arhaaam)

All I want to do is cover every inch of his honey toned skin with my mouth.
Leave imprints of my lips on his body
Both as a gesture of appreciation and a mark of my territory.
This elation I’ve started to come to terms with is both foreign a sentiment,
And yet all too frightening a flutter to feel.
My primal nature seeks to claim him and my sensibilities cry out for diversion.
Diversion from what could at once be soul consuming and absolutely nerve wrecking.
My cause is as sound as my explanation.
You see;
Eu não confio em mim.

(Source: pinmedownandtakemybreathaway)

Haven’t I been clear in my intention?
Could I have been any more lucid?
Devout? Decrepit? Derelict.
Sacred flower turned scarlet letter.
Who wears the A?
Upturned lips, pursed petals.
Longing and regret woven together in an intoxicated plume of delicious desire.
What happened of S and L?
Flummoxed expressions, ridiculed pleasantries.
And what of Don Juan and Casanova?
Dead as a door nail.

(Source: themochafreeman)

I find my face upturned when in close proximity of him,
Almost as if my mouth pleads softly, silently, sultrily
For the sweetness of his lips upon my own.

(Source: pinmedownandtakemybreathaway)

Fixed. theme by Andrew McCarthy