teenwhoops:

i’m glad we don’t have to hunt for our food any more.. i don’t even know where Sandwiches live 

cut my hair short. too short to go back, not short enough to look good, so I’m back in in the morning….wish I could just shave it off…

Editors, you work in strange and mysterious ways. And I love you for it.

Hunting On a Full Stomach

collectedunkept:

it used to be a race
now we’re king of the hill
the tank ain’t even empty
but we’re filling it still

eat it up…
drink it up…

rearrange food chains
until we reach the summit

hunting on a full stomach

isn’t strange how inhumane humanity is (we begin to question definition)

Tumblr Tastes

often times, even those who write
can have the most closed minds;

there is a wall like the great
divide between you and I: you value
vintage, and I hide behind
sweatshirts because my waist
has claimed new stretch
marks,

and you only ever listen to the most
obscure sounds- songs that label
with words like “acid jazz” and
“downbeat,” while I enjoy the spread
of sounds, the mix of rap and
the soft kick of folk,

and don’t forget, how you write
(of course, we differ there too)

you paint blues and blacks with the backs
of your scarred wrists, and I delve into anything
that seems to fit at the moment, but for you
you’re only ever swimming in sadness, but I
-I try get past it;

we are clearly separated by our
varying tastes, but does that make us
so different?

The Sweet S(k)in of Madelyn,

[skin curves around
high-waisted hips: a set-
in softness to her otherwise
feisty touch-]

in the hollowed words, and the
rolling eyes, most depict her
as the violent type, but

even she has a sweeter side,
only ever seen a few times
in the damp light of his
old ride, and

on those nights, she’d confess
every aching thought that had begun
to break her, it was as if he
was just another seat in the car, there to
comfort and cushion the sounds
of a lonely heart

[in the quiet gleam of the evening
moon, he found soft skin
stretched as far as he could kiss,
and how he wished those nights
could somehow give her the strength
to fight, to try again]

Throwing Words at Walls

Does it make you as sad
as it makes me to think that this
little piece of a one-sided
script is the closest we’ll ever come
to speaking?