(Source: serialstranger)
Give her roses when the dying sun has
furrowed her once fluid skin
‘cause she’s been waiting for you
until the horizon brushes her shouldersGive her roses when the phases of
the moon taught her to be jaded from
your absence in touching, assuring, lovingAnd though her bed sheets envelope her
A Glory is a Salamander
a glory is a salamander:
neurochemical, semiprofessionalslinking about in a box
with stars, scoffing
at watersheds.Drag your rags oh dragon
of wet bogbrain
rife with maggots
in probably rationalism
like wet sandwiches or beer at the fair,or unclean urinals
in the pockets of civilization where
men shout at the top of their lungs.
(Source: droptheeanchor)
(Source: ameerabdullah)
(Source: lukesdiner)
(Source: alexisaurusrex)
(Source: fuck-gorgeous)
(Source: fflyer)
(Source: neonkontra)