Ello there,
There is a mad war in these bones.
I am still that girl,
the one whose heart is a continent too big for the skin.
I am either a bee sting,
or a flower petal
or a shipwreck trying to resurrect itself.
This is what I’ve learned:
self-love is a sun that spends its entire life fighting its way
through a delta of grey clouds.
I am not always whole.
Some days I am an uneven walkway filled with hell cracks.
This does not mean I am not worthy.
This does not mean I am not my own form of beautiful.
-Karese Burrows (via avvfvl)
Beauty

Beauty

ivy-and-twine:

MCM Part II   Flower Beards

VZ WE MM VV PY

setbabiesonfire:

wild-guy:

Achrioptera fallax (x)

Yoooo

WAAAANT.

They will say I smoked cigarettes and marijuana, cursed hoarse as a crow in all my languages, and loved morphine and Demerol and tequila and pulque, women and men. I will shrug my illusion of shoulders and answer that I am a water woman, not a vessel, not something you can sail or charter. I am instead the tributary, the river, the fluid source, and the sea itself. I am all her rainy implications. And what do you, with your rusted compass, know of love?
From The Incantation of Frida K. by Kate Braverman (via hush-syrup)
sp4ceinvaders:

uohh:

beingnaked:

by neil craver

life is this photo. drowning and floating and everything is blurry and kind of scary and beautiful and confusing all at the same time.

This is my favourite tumblr photo from now on; the female body and nature, the border between water and land, and death and life, hmm-hmmm.

sp4ceinvaders:

uohh:

beingnaked:

by neil craver

life is this photo. drowning and floating and everything is blurry and kind of scary and beautiful and confusing all at the same time.

This is my favourite tumblr photo from now on; the female body and nature, the border between water and land, and death and life, hmm-hmmm.


Vincent Van Gogh Irises, 1889.

Vincent Van Gogh Irises, 1889.

If the Universe
Learned to speak to us in stars,
What would it whisper?
~for a science haiku anthology at my college~ (via paralian)

acopipa:

Claude Monet’s home, Giverny