I was quiet but I wasn’t blind -Thoughts (via fluerly)

(via 0reg0ngirl)

Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme it just has to touch someone where your hands couldn’t. -Anonymous (via psychotictk)

(via falsephilosopher)

You can tell so much about a person by the way they leave you. -

Redvers Bailey  (via nectarinejam)

This makes me think a lot

(via sunshine-years)

(Source: guntoyourhead, via falsephilosopher)



Do you ever ‘wtf white people’ even though you are a white people.

(via bixbiboo)

When sex becomes a production or performance that is when it loses its value. Be mutual. Be loud. Be clumsy. Make noises, be quiet, and make a mess. Bite, scratch, push, pull, hold, thrust. Remove pressure from the moment. Love the moment. Embrace it. Enjoy your body; enjoy your partners’ body. Produce sweat, be natural, entice your senses, give into pleasure. Bump heads, miss when you kiss, laugh when it happens. Speak words, speak with your body, speak to their soul. Touch their skin, kiss their goose bumps, and play with their hair. Scream, beg, whimper, sigh, let your toes curl, lose yourself. Chase your breath; keep the lights on, watch their eyes when they explode. Forget worrying about extra skin, sizes of parts and things that are meaningless. Save the expectations, take each second as it comes. Smear your make up, mess up your hair, rid your masculinity, and lose your ego. Detonate together, collapse together, and melt into each other. -(via dothelittlethings)

Don’t usually reblog stuff like this but this is actually just beautiful so read it

(via a-life-with-purpose)

always reblog

(via tuckhasthoughts)

(Source: onedirtydiamond, via tuckhasthoughts)

  • Superman: I still can't believe they shot at me.
  • Batman: Clark, you're bulletproof