#savage words

bits-of-wit:

decaymp3:

decaymp3:

im so srs humans were made for art and friend and food and beddy bye. i mean this

and help each other. humans were made for help each other

random-xpressions:

What if there existed no other language on earth except something deeply symbolic: a handshake, a hug, a kiss. The sheer capacity of the human body to express by itself, be it through the eyes or by the hands is simply amazing. A touch could be more healing than any other medicine discovered till date. And don’t ask me what wonders those lips could do if they were to just widen a bit with a hearty smile, enough to bring all the heavenly bliss. Get your body involved, tongue is not the crown of expression, it’s merely a medium resorted in the last phase. Otherwise, your entire being is more than enough to express beautifully by itself - this body, in which you reside, is the perfect symbolic epitome of what your soul is truly made of…

Random Xpressions

liberalsarecool:

Leave reproductive decisions up to individuals.

jezifster:

Weed should be free in fact you should get paid for smoking it

theleakypen:

punkrorschach:

thesaltofcarthage:

depsidase:

my name is elephant
I don’t fit the rhyme scheme
I drink the soup
It’s not like you’re going to stop me

my name is ‘Phant

i do not fit

the poem scheme

i will omit

but i don’t care

and nor should you

unstoppably,

i drink the soup

I’m ollyfant

with legs like trees

and any time

I dam well plees

Thro window smalle

as jeweler’s loupe

I reach insyde

I drink the soupe

losinghopeart:

confessions

jussamon:

ancientdaydreams:

Imagine being so ashamed of your history you outlaw it from being taught

Their a Bunch of Cowards.

I climb into the covers and try to hide the shame that I feel.

Trying to keep you from seeing how much I want to be destroyed;

let me be missing in action. Bottom of the ocean kind; washed

away, sins taken off of the skin I could never love. Full of hatred and

then… Release. Completely undone, my sobs sound like screams

being choked out; I can’t get ahold of the air. Underwater I struggle to

push myself out of the depths, out of the sadness [brokenness]

that I can’t help but embrace. [What would I be without this pain?]

You try to comfort me and I spit venom in your eyes just

to get you to turn your face away from mine, embarrassed by

the reflection of myself in your eyes. Yet you come back,

you take the shirt off your back to wipe away the poison

and wrap your arms around my body until I can no longer

fight you. Tears roll down my face as I gasp for air;

shivers run down my spine as you kiss away all of the pain

until I’m numb. I can’t feel anything except the high that you

bring to the forefront of my mind. You whisper, “rest” but

I can’t. I dig my claws into your back and bring your flesh to

mine; ecstasy taking away the sadness and replacing it

with lustful love. Addicted to the way you make me feel I

beg for it until you’re exhausted. I take until you break and

then the shame washes over me again. A sick cycle I can

never seem to break.

ReBecca DeFazio

More Than a Flower

We find each other again;

we melt into words that lead

to actions that cause feelings

to explode into the space that

we thought would be empty

forever. We crawl through the

briers that grew from trauma,

stress, and silence; misunderstandings

leading to mistrust and heartbreak…

Knees bleeding, we remember

who we are. In the light and in

the shadows; finding each

other’s lips, fingertips, and

hearts still alive; still grasping

for one another’s flesh…

For one another’s affection,

validation, love. We admit

that we will never find

another connection like ours

and we give into the raw.

We give into the now. Where

pride and fear of rejection no

longer exist… Where we’re

more than flaws and perfections.

We see the damage done and

kiss it away; begging for forgiveness

from one another until the days

become lighter and the love

becomes fuller. We remember

what it is to love; teenagers again

looking into each other’s eyes

accepting that we’re so flawed…

But so loved.

ReBecca DeFazio

More Than A Flower