#Tellmeaboutit #tues : with @saduggan on a cold ass morning in KS. Good shot @bambikiller1
He’s been coming down to get me, but he’s taking too long. My head’s going all funny, and my heartbeat’s all wrong. So I packed up the car and hit the road going North. With my head full of visions and my blood running coarse. The sky bright as ever, and the road straight and mean, to keep you so far for as long as it’s been. I put my foot to the floor and eyes on the view till my arms and my legs are both wrapped around you.
I remember seeing you step out from the shadows of the dark street on that night, and how you moved, and smiled and looked away. It’s funny because I don’t remember if we shook hands, or hugged, or neither, but I do remember the way your face looked in that moment. I’ll never forget it, because it was like getting reminded of a childhood memory by tasting that grape flavor of gum you always you used to chew. It filled up some blank spot I didn’t know was there. I’ll never forget it, because every time I see you now I think, “oh good, I’m home again. It’s so much nicer here than I remembered.”
This is where I find you. Somewhere between the mistakes I have made and the goodness I have been able to bring out from them. I have taken hold of all the responsibility there is in those dark hours, forced myself upon them to look and see the things I had not been able to previous. There in the gloom, inside the bitter notes that played such novel truths and untruths upon my tongue, teaching me of ugliness and beauty both, I have found you; some respite from the hollow light that rings its hands and feet in hurried hopes and silly dreams. A real thing, all laughter and soft words to lay any melancholy still hanging in the shadows of this place to rest. I could not have believed it fore this moment. I had not seen the chirping sweetnesses as graspable certainties. And now, as the day comes closing, and night sullies forth as a sured thing, I take the cold and quite with new attitudes… Calm and steady as is possible to be, I put myself in arms distance, even when I am not, to be taken up by you, such a bright and clever thing.
I had not seen the sweetnesses, but my once clouded mind has been rung dry, allowing for new dreams and little whispers in the mornings as I stretch out my sleeping and rise up to meet you in this day that you have made. So perfect a thing as you are to me. So completely have I become yours.
Take it all back. Life is boring, except for flowers, sunshine, your perfect legs. A glass of cold water when you are really thirsty. The way bodies fit together. Fresh and young and sweet. Coffee in the morning. These are just moments. I struggle with the in-betweens. I just want to never stop loving like there is nothing else to do, because what else is there to do?
Pablo Neruda(via sundaylatte)
I have put myself within your reach, which is what this thing is all about I think; Being able to allow someone to stretch themselves to you if they so choose, and let them touch you. It gets harder if you let it. You go through experiences that are maybe not so good and you cry and in the chaos of that pain you make up your mind about this open handedness, and maybe you think you shouldn’t be, or that there must be a line in the sand between you and the person who might try. You haul yourself up, and steel your insides and hope this will help, but it doesn’t. And hopefully you learn that life is much more beautiful without all that hard metal between you and the next one, and hopefully you can melt whatever armor you put there.
I have unburdened myself of these barriers and the chaos that caused them. I have laid myself before you, a fragile thing once more, knowing that your hand will be soft when it reaches down to touch me. Knowing that even if I’m wrong, I will still have been right to do so, because life is not cold steel and sorrow.
My life is made up of the beauty you place upon me there, where there is nothing but my flesh to keep you from everything I have ever had, and even that you have seeped through.
The poor models at Louis Vuitton.
yo, fuck marc jacobs, he treats models like complete shit all of the time and never gets called out on it
Oh my god this is real
if this doesnt get people pissed i dont know what will
You don’t know what will?? How about children being beheaded because of the religion they were born into in the Middle East… Or how about other children being drugged and rapped by their psychiatrists and politicians in Australia. How about kids dying before they turn 20 in Africa because of the dust in their lungs from when they were getting diamonds for these stupid fashion idiots. If it takes THIS to get you mad… Some models who have starved themselves by choice to be a part of the vaporous industry that showcases impossible standards and promotes unhealthy body images, and have now gotten bruises from both the lack of nutrition in their diets and some ridiculous shoes… If THATS it… That’s what just threw you over the edge, then congrats, cause that was all I needed to be pissed. Now we’re both mad.
I can feel the things that happened blistering in your words sometimes. Blackened moments that bend and crack those utterances into awkward shapes and sounds, making them seem false when they are not. In moments like those I want feel you instead of hear you, because there is no past with my fingers in your hair and my belly pressed against yours. There is nothing but you in that. 📷 @danedc #wednesday
Can we just stay like this? Lit up and fluttering the way we are, trying to put our bodies into one another constantly, never feeling close enough… Is it possible to remain that enamored, that impossibly taken with each other and for that to not run out? Because I don’t ever want to have to look at you without feeling like I need you so bad that I can’t help but reach my hand out to touch you just to make sure you’re really there. I don’t ever want to wake up not caring that you’re beside me… Without knowing that if I put myself within your grasp you will tighten your whole body around mine and kiss me until my chin is raw from your beard. I don’t ever want to feel anything other than my breath getting short when I see you after a long day at work, because you’re so damn handsome to me and when your mouth cracks into that wide grin I feel my cheeks get hot and peel my mouth open in earnest.
I never want to get frustrated with you on the phone for something you’ve said that I forgot to take with a grain of salt cause you don’t mean it that way. You would never mean it that way. I never want to feel disinterested or cold when you are climbing on top of me to get closer, wanting something I’d rather not give right that minute. I never want to grow tired of your stories or the way you laugh or the way you clearly aren’t listening to me sometimes. Nowadays I laugh and smile to myself when you do that. I don’t want that to change.
I’m scared when I think about these nuances and the things they build up to, because when I look at you I think I never want look at anything else like that again in my whole life. I want to stay warm beneath you, lit up by you, and completely open to you.
The world and it’s history and the people who make it up would tell me that it’s nearly impossible, and that all things surely fade. That it has been proven again and again as a part of our makeup. We’re only human after all. But I look around at them all and I think they have no idea how good it feels to know you in this way. That I can’t stand the thought that I might not one day, or that you might not, and that I would have to get over you. I never want to have to get over you. The world changes all the time, and I do, and you have too, but if neither one of us can ever hold onto one other thing let us try and hold onto each other, because this is the good stuff, the really good good stuff, and if I don’t have to go through one more moment of my life knowing what it’s like to have this and lose it… If I don’t have to go through one more minute without this fire burning holes in every bad thing I ever lived through till they are just dust within my chest… Well, I’d be just fine with that.
I don’t mind spending my life lying around counting sheep, a submarine, coming up for air now and again to roll over in my queen sized bed for one and escape only myself. I don’t mind it except now I know that you exist. Out there in the world, all this time you have. It ruins all that sure-fire alone stuff because now that I know it the idea of trying to sleep alone seems an utterly useless activity. I think about rolling over to find you slumbering there, all twisted up in the sheets I had designated for my solitude, and my chest caves, and my hands ache to find you. Every inch of me wants you there… Every piece that I had thought mine is now met most entirely with a need to be yours. I want you to know those pieces and take them up in your fingers as little puzzles to own.
These are the night thoughts, left for dark hours when I need you most. Quiet hours when I can almost feel your shadow still there next to me in what would be your side of the bed, or what will be. The idea that I might hardly know you seems a false one, for I have known this vibration of longing as long as I have known anything at all, pulsing through me without knowing why it did, or to what ends.
My hands are aching. Your body is far from mine, but my body feels you. I don’t mind counting sheep, except that I do now. I do now that I know you are real and not something I imagined. A dream unto my waking life that I attempt to bring into my other one. The one where you are near me at all hours, and my secrets are not secrets, because you know them all. The one where your aching hands reach out and find mine reaching back.
You don’t measure love in time. You measure love in transformation. Sometimes the longest connections yield very little growth, while the briefest of encounters change everything. The heart doesn’t wear a watch - it’s timeless. It doesn’t care how long you know someone. It doesn’t care if you had a 40 year anniversary if there is no juice in the connection. What the heart cares about is resonance. Resonance that opens it, resonance that enlivens it, resonance that calls it home. And when it finds it, the transformation begins…
Jeff Brown (via weareallfollowers)
She was a light all to herself and she sang sweetly out there on the water.
Nothing good ever came out her sorrowful mouth but she looked pretty without all that rot in her.
Let me tell you about the moment I met you.
We both knew it was coming and neither one of us could really look at the other too much. You were picking me up from that meeting I was having about some hipster music project in some equally hipster part of town. We’d been set up to have this moment, you see, and that felt funny enough that I would have paid about a million dollars to be some place else right then. Lucky for me I didn’t have a million dollars, because somewhere in the seconds between when you had closed the door of your car behind me and the ones where you got in the other side something changed. Suddenly you weren’t this person I didn’t know, and you weren’t some guy… You were you, this someone I had written down so long ago and was told would just magically show up one day when I was finally comfortable with being just me… The kind of me I am when no one’s looking, and no one cares… I wrote that person down and then I was looking at you so many countless hours later, sitting there beside me like you had known all along that this would be so.
What a funny world it is, I thought, as you rambled on about this and that, and I don’t really remember what you said, but I remember the sound of your voice inside my head being something I wanted, and sinking down into that seat as if someone was relieving me from all my earthly duties.
We got to the restaurant and couldn’t figure out what we wanted so just blindly pointed our way around the menu for the waitress so we could go back to listening to each other with as little distraction as was possible. I couldn’t get enough of you all of a sudden. I couldn’t get enough of the things you were saying, or the way you were saying them, or how you moved your body ever closer to mine in that booth. By the end of the dinner, of which I remember hardly any details, being too distracted by your perfect hands and face, I was enveloped in your grasp as a chrysalis, unfolding one strand at a time to be something other than what I had been. You buried your tongue deep inside my mouth then in some blur of grabs and pulls, and undid the ideas and walls I’d been so busy putting in place that I could hardly remember why I had, or what for.
None of it matter after that. None of it has since. I don’t even care what anyone makes of it, or if they believe me or if they don’t. I don’t care if you do. That light you carry around with you chased out my darker shades and let me of my brooding. I am yours. I always was. And the rest doesn’t matter, and it never will again.