Fireflies light a way ahead, into unknown passages we gingerly tread. The road is long and the course is short, but I think I found something beyond the sun.

I remember all to clearly, what it was like when I felt numb. Both scared and relieved, unable to cry and to smile.

It was awaking in the dark of the night and the light of the day and not registering that I had been in either extreme.

Twisted toes and
Slick long thighs
Show glitter shows
Across their lives

Might as well tell me now it’s a moment lost I’m sorry.

The yellow rock appears as gold, as the crinkled leather hands of my grandmother passes it to me. “The gold is from the family, for hard times ahead.” I wrap it in satin and pop it out of sight when I’m homeless and jobless and hopeless I reveal it to a jeweller, for cold cash well spent. It’s worthless, he tells me, fools gold to be sure. He’s curling his lip and holding his nose, I’m smelling at his door. Years later at home on the couch I remember the gold and dug it out, I wake my daughter cup my hands and - “The gold is from the family, for hard times ahead.”

- I wrote this for my queue this morning, I’m getting exam results today and I know I haven’t done well. I just wanted to keep a moment when I was oblivious.

One day a moment to rival them all, the next a midnight corner. Be ready to fall.

Diced and latticed
With pins and ties
We attempted to
Save something alive
Something bleeding
And torn and lungs
On the floor and
Found we didn’t have
What we thought we
Had before

- i don’t think we should be friends. But I feel like we can’t stop.

graveyardgalaxy:

He was so gorgeous
And confident
That he made me
Wonder if he was
A killer

Not killer eyes
Killer kisses
Killer body

But something that
Would curl up
Inside of me in bed
And put those gorgeous
Hands around my
Windpipe kind of killer

Because we all sit quietly and cry in our closets whether metaphorical or not.

I love the way
easy and effortless
Limbs spread in water
Hair fans in
Simple woven lace
Intricate patterns
Cut the surface
And dabble the flesh

sweetteaqueenie:

stylinsonfreak:

ahkmenra-h:

hellabitcoins:

sansaspark:

magconbabe-matt:

This shit better work

HAH I REBLOGGED THIS LAST NIGHT AND LOOK WHAT I GOT FROM MY DAD TODAY OUT OF THE BLUE


what if we all got paper lol

GUYS I REBLOGGED THIS LAST NIGHT AND I JUST GOT $150 

Gonna reblog this shit cause you never know

yeah my daddy gave me $200 like seriously


Because I really need the job I just went for.

sweetteaqueenie:

stylinsonfreak:

ahkmenra-h:

hellabitcoins:

sansaspark:

magconbabe-matt:

This shit better work

HAH I REBLOGGED THIS LAST NIGHT AND LOOK WHAT I GOT FROM MY DAD TODAY OUT OF THE BLUE

what if we all got paper lol
GUYS I REBLOGGED THIS LAST NIGHT AND I JUST GOT $150 

Gonna reblog this shit cause you never know

yeah my daddy gave me $200 
like seriously

Because I really need the job I just went for.

(via zlth)

Watch out, I can and will romanticise just about anything. But I can also show the seedy truth.

anchor-dowwn:

vuoen:

I met this boy once while I was staying in surrey, he paid for my bus fare when I was stuck in the rain, and had the loveliest voice and dark brown hair and his name was Blake. I remember from the moment I met him I was obsessed with seeing him again and I used to venture into town everyday for a week or two hoping to bump into him, hanging around the same old bus stop in hope he would turn up in his stupid rain jacket and start to talk about how bad the weather was all the time and if I wanted to catch up sometime. Funnily enough, he never did turn up.


this is sad

Out there is a guy, who thinks about the girl he met at the bus stop. He doesn’t know why because it was an unremarkable event, but in any case he wonders if she got home safely.

anchor-dowwn:

vuoen:

I met this boy once while I was staying in surrey, he paid for my bus fare when I was stuck in the rain, and had the loveliest voice and dark brown hair and his name was Blake. I remember from the moment I met him I was obsessed with seeing him again and I used to venture into town everyday for a week or two hoping to bump into him, hanging around the same old bus stop in hope he would turn up in his stupid rain jacket and start to talk about how bad the weather was all the time and if I wanted to catch up sometime. Funnily enough, he never did turn up.

this is sad

Out there is a guy, who thinks about the girl he met at the bus stop. He doesn’t know why because it was an unremarkable event, but in any case he wonders if she got home safely.

(Source: methpond, via sloth-society)

Your failures are not your own. They belong to your friends and family. They belong to acquaintances and teachers, and that is what makes failure worse.

The yard of leaves, left marbled prisms on your face when you said you were leaving.