22 and still none-the-wiser.
Overall, A Well-Organized Chaos.
http://oliviandoliver.tumblr.com/
Overall, A Well-Organized Chaos.
http://oliviandoliver.tumblr.com/
When writers die they become books, which is, after all, not too bad an incarnation.
— Jorge Luis Borges (via erraticintrovert)
(Source: imaginariumcreativestudios, via thedevaluationofspermdump)
In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they’re still beautiful.
— Alice Walker (via magdolenelives)
Eyes. Those damn eyes fucked me forever. We made love just looking at them.
— Charles Bukowski (via blurrymelancholy)
(Source: whispsofinvisibleme, via thedevaluationofspermdump)
You are
the
silence
in between
what
I thought
and
what
I said.
the
silence
in between
what
I thought
and
what
I said.
— Florence And The Machine, No Light, No Light (via erraticintrovert)
(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via thedevaluationofspermdump)
I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know that there’s nothing but light when I see you.
— Shinji Moon (via thoughtsofam)
(Source: seabois, via thedevaluationofspermdump)
I am angry that I starved my brain and that I sat shivering in my bed at night instead of dancing or reading poetry or eating ice cream or kissing a boy or maybe a girl with gentle lips and strong hands.
— Laurie Halse Anderson, “Wintergirls” (via yoforbes)
(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via thedevaluationofspermdump)
I’m covered in
the residue of your lips,
the taste of your skin.
the residue of your lips,
the taste of your skin.
looking for a tumblr gf ♡ im lonely any takers? :(
(Source: stuckinlabyrinth, via highheelsandhangovers)
Tomorrow, you promise yourself, will be different, yet, tomorrow is too often a repetition of today. And you disappoint yourself again and again.
— James T. Mckay (via stxxz)
(via jetblackheart)
