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grandmagrass:

here a woman starts picking the ripe chameleons off of the chameleon tree

grandmagrass:

here a woman starts picking the ripe chameleons off of the chameleon tree

(Source: mf-doom, via wiskeyvixen)

I like to touch your tattoos in complete
darkness, when I can’t see them. I’m sure of
where they are, know by heart the neat
lines of lightning pulsing just above
your nipple, can find, as if by instinct, the blue
swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent
twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you

to me, taking you until we’re spent
and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss
the pictures in your skin. They’ll last until
you’re seared to ashes; whatever persists
or turns to pain between us, they will still
be there. Such permanence is terrifying.
So I touch them in the dark; but touch them, trying.

 Kim Addonizio, “First Poem for You” (via feellng)

(via wiskeyvixen)

broadens:

the number on the weighing scale doesn’t matter when my favorite pair of jeans can still fit me

(via hi--imawkward)

transcripts:

"true beauty is within" for example opening your fridge

(via hi--imawkward)

wanderthewood:

Shining Cliff Woods, Ambergate, Derbyshire, England by icypics

wanderthewood:

Shining Cliff Woods, Ambergate, Derbyshire, England by icypics

(via hi--imawkward)