1. Reblogged from: sam-dabs
  2. Reblogged from: 0r1g1n-c0de
  3. Reblogged from: 0r1g1n-c0de
  4. Reblogged from: 0r1g1n-c0de
  5. Mother, he is a gentleman.
    He is a builder with bricks of moonlight.
    He knows the secret places of the earth.
    He washes the sleep from the eyes of the souls.
    He lets them look on beauty.
    He lets them tell him they hate him.
    In the mornings, I gather berries and apples.
    I scrub his back with rind.
    I weave spider-spit, eyelash.
    He talks in his sleep: pudding, fire, discus,
    the things he misses.
    He breathes, Your body is my orchard.
    I am undulating grass.
    I am a field of wheat he parts with his fingers.
    Poppies bloom in my veins.
    When he kisses me, he tastes pomegranate.
    The night crawls nearer.
    The moans of the dead roll and swell.
    Mother, we are well.

    Tara Mae Mulroy, “Persephone Writes to Her Mother” (via fleurishes)

    100donofficial
    ❤️❤️❤️❤️

    (via jueboo)

    Reblogged from: iamloca
  6. Everyone deserves a second chance,
    but not for the same mistake.
  7. extramadness:

More quotes about life here

    extramadness:

    More quotes about life here

    Reblogged from: extramadness
  8. iamilex:

    adventuresinchemistry:

    I know this is horrifically late, but I made one of these for the science side of tumblr!

    oh my god SHIP, LOOK!

    Reblogged from: adventuresinchemistry
  9. Do not bite at the bait of pleasure till you know there is no hook beneath it.
    Thomas Jefferson. (via quotedojo)
    Reblogged from: quotedojo
  10. My heart swings back and forth between the need for routine and the urge to run.
    (note to self)

    This couldn’t be any more relevant to my life right now

    (via frizzzlefry)
    Reblogged from: quicklove
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His real life is led in his head.

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