limbo & such

i-will-pursue-your-presence:

mythologyhotspot:

scottman99:

heyitsodette:

Splash Mountain Photos

YES

It’s funnier everytime I see it.

I like human beings.

generally i’d be really fucking pissed at being awake at 3:30am but the rain is perfect and the lightning is so bright it lights up my keyboard and the thunder is so fucking profound, and it hurts a little, you know?

ourspacebetween:

dharmagun:

dbvictoria:

Eddie Izzard appreciation post

a role-model for us all

I ❤ Eddie Izzard!

intersection of tumblr and poor attention span: scrolling idly through my dash, get distracted by something on my phone, realize i’ve had naked chicks on my work monitor for like 10 minutes

tastefullyoffensive:

Mario Kart IRL. [zdedwards]

tastefullyoffensive:

Mario Kart IRL. [zdedwards]

I am a phoenix rising, hissing and shedding.
you think me a coward as I curl in upon myself, destroying,
but I am only looking for what I will set on fire.

ourdrunkitchen:

Things always get a little weird on My Hungover Kitchens

saintemo:

Hey look, a first kiss video with queer people, people of color, and a better body type representation.

Also, they aren’t actors/models! Real people!

There is an intimacy that coalesces when you know that you’re leaving a city,
like you’re memorizing the things you cherished in a failed relationship.
I am sorry, I say to the broken fences, the potholes, the skeletal trees.

I walk along the lake and think of the poems I’ve written.
I wrote to the lake and told her I loved her, catalogued her charms,
whispered how beautiful she is when she is frozen and ignored.
She twists her fingers in my hair, bites my lips;
her breath hisses, and I stutter, but she is already a memory.

Snow falls like a suggestion, a reminder.
It gathers on my fingertips but I can’t see it in my hand,
only flickering under the streetlights.

I like the silhouettes, like tracing a jawline in a dark room.
I regret less, maybe, when I only see the outlines; maybe I only see myself.

My photographs become farewells and my descriptions become eulogies.
The seasons fall into categories, I file them away in my head:
photographs and memories, I wait for the day I turn the key.

current status: writing poetry and eating pizza