mrgolightly:

Can we just talk about all of the people who have already signed on for American Horror Story: Coven? Jessica Lange, Evan Peters, Kathy Bates, Angela Bassett, Patti Lupone, Taissa Farmiga, Gabourey Sidibe, Sarah Paulson, Lily Rabe, Frances Conroy and Emma Roberts. Um, and it’s about witches? That shit is gonna be insane.

I’m in someone else’s home, using someone else’s laptop, and watching someone else’s child.

I’m sad.

I don’t know why.

I’m trying to write something and all the words are jumbled in my head but I can’t make a coherent sentence.

Or an idea that makes sense.

A rabid dog is chasing a little girl out on the street at this moment and no one’s trying to help her.

I’m afraid of dogs.

When I was eight, a dog chased me and no one helped me out.

There were five other people out on the street that day.

I ended up five blocks away from my house. It turned out the dog stopped chasing me after I passed the second block.

I didn’t look back.

Funny how I wanted to stay alive.

It’s sad how I still do.

I hate my neighbors.

One of them were caught peeping on our door last Saturday night.

People are weird.

5000letters:

The Anatomy of Emotion

Boy, it’s your limbs I want
twisted around sodding curves and drifts like a car crash
we are a car crash, we are metal twisted around tree stump, we are disaster and broken and 
beautiful
or collateral damage, easing smoke and bodily fluids disguised as petrol
strike your match against the cardboard of my stomach
there, watch us burn

Boy, it’s your eyes, 
on me, on skin, on folds of paper that resemble me, 
on bones, on books, on lipstick marks on coffee mugs 
all the places we’ve had sex look like a home after a fire where no one survives the burn
it’s your lashes I want, boy, pursed against the corner of my mouth each one a wish, or a hope and
pray
‘dear god, let me have him’ 

Boy, it’s your hands 
they make poetry out of me, out of all the things you touch, when you scrape your palm against your jaw I hear Bernini grumble 
because he could not make art like you, flightless, breathing, 
gentle, 
art as beautiful as you, boy 
it’s your hands, let me hold them, let us feel, it’s your fingers I want, capturing tides, and riffs, and the swell of the moon and the 
swells of me 

Boy, it’s your mouth
the words, the words, the honey and wildfire 
I hear music when you speak, I hear violins rubbing themselves raw against the strings of your throat 
you are Beethoven’s best piece, and that nocturne, the one we can only listen to at the depths of night because it sounds too much like breathing, 
like hearts folding into each other, silence and silence and exhalations 
sighs 
it’s your lips, boy, when they kiss I am new, alive, pinwheel firework 

it’s you, electric storm and shaking
it’s you, heart in your mouth, fist in the air 
it’s you, beating and pulsing and alive,
it’s you, boy
boy, it’s you

A woman’s worst nightmare? That’s pretty easy. Novelist Margaret Atwood writes that when she asked a male friend why men feel threatened by women, he answered, “They are afraid women will laugh at them.” When she asked a group of women why they feel threatened by men, they said, “We’re afraid of being killed.
written by

Mary Dickson

[CW: discussion of rape culture and violence]

This reminds me of an article about online (heterosexual) dating that I read a while ago. It listed men’s and women’s worst fears about meeting someone from online. The highest ranked fear that men had was that their date would be fat, whereas the highest ranked fear that women had was that their date would turn out to be violent and kill them.

I think that says a lot.

(via kaitg)

barkingsparrows:

The Neighbourhood » Say My Name/Cry Me a River

5000letters:

My mother tells me about all the ways I peel fruit wrong.
‘It’s breaking’ she says, pointing to the cracks and fissures where juice is seeping from between my fingers. ‘If you hold it between your palms too tightly, you’ll crush it.’
I wish she’d told me sooner because when you left I could not fathom the reason. And then I saw drips on the carpet. The leakage of your heart. And I knew that, like fruit, I had held onto you too hard and you’d fractured under the pressure.

urbancatfitters:

this website rlly informed me about rape culture and sexuality and just like made me more knowledgeable abt stuff in general however it’s also a very dark environment sometimes because it facilitates self loathing and romanticizes depression and other mental disorders

so thanks but also fuck you

yourfriendg00:

cute nicknames for your significant other:

• old sport
• old sport
• old sport
• old sport
• old sport
• old sport
• old sport