How to be Alone

shihfu:

An old project from last year. One of a set of three. To extract the book from its box, both ends of the ribbons must be pulled at once. Pulling only one will get nowhere.

Two people connected by the red string of fate are destined lovers, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch, tangle, and knot, but will never break.

(via gabbunny)

(via gabbunny)

(via beautifail)

(via loveyourchaos)

365typesofjoy:

This is a prayer I’ll write under my skin 

so I don’t have to share with gods I don’t believe in. 

It will be so powerful I will light lamps with it 

amongst the nightmares in my blood

to scare them out through the breath in my nose. 

 

 

I tried to convince myself that love poems don’t matter. 

That I am worth more as fire than I am pillow soft 

under someone else’s fingers. 

But the universe made me a void 

into which sink the little ships of daily hopes

and contempt provided shoddy work on the life preservers. 

And hatred was a greedy eater. 

And envy left me for another. 

 

 

Quietly I crept into the room in which love resided,

and prayed with my eyes open

staring upwards like the proverbial man in the desert. 

No help comes like dust circling down from the ceiling, 

instead it trickles through the blood. 

 

 

Listen? Can’t you hear the life you have, 

being lived inside your veins. 

What great love does not start by stopping up 

the bathtub drain, black hole void at the center of one’s being? 

My prayer says love keeps the flood at bay. 

365typesofjoy:

I am waiting for you, 

in my green night shirt that reaches my knees, 

so I can feel like a toddler playing dress up with you. 

That is the feeling

which overwhelms me

lying in bed next to you 

on a particularly silly morning, 

when the light tickles my neck,

the same way I tickle yours with my breath. 

You are coming back to me, 

and I am sinking back into my bones as my home

because you’re the other half of that heart necklace

and the magnetic pull stretches cross country. 

It is attached to my soul. 

But you are coming back, 

and I am waiting. 

365typesofjoy:

I can see God’s thumbprint 

in the little swirl in your stubble

just below your sideburns, 

and it makes me wonder where else he left his mark. 

In the crevices of the ocean? 

He must have quilted out a pattern for love

because I feel the same

when I read poems aloud,

or listen to that song 

or when your lips hit mine. 

My favorite thing about sexy pair of underwear 

(number three)

is that you slid 

your fingers right past it to get to me,

and my skin skin skin. 

I think purity is bullshit, 

but how else can I describe

what you look like when I walk in the door

and you’re in your funeral pose,

with your eyes closed

and it is so beautiful, 

you should teach the dead how to sleep. 

And I curl up next to you and murmur, 

“maybe this is how life should be.” 

-Pilar Jefferson

getouttaqueer:

sad-queer:

New business idea: cat nightclub. It is a nightclub with several club cats. The music is not loud, so as not to scare the cats. No one dances. Everyone pets cats.

yes

(via loveyourchaos)