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Sext: my atoms are reaching for your atoms so intensely that my skin is tearing away from my bones

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“The first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt. The second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth. He has always surprised  you into surprising yourself. Because he’s an angel hiding his halo behind his back and nothing has ever felt so filthy as plucking the wings from his shoulders— undressing his softness one feather at a time. God, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, he fucks like a seraphim, and there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands. Hands that map a communion in the cradle of your hips. Hands that kiss hymns up your sides. He confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship and, oh, you put him on his knees. When he sinks to the floor and moans like he can’t help himself, you wonder if the other angels fell so sweet. He says his prayers between your thighs and you dig your heels into the base of his spine until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue. You will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please. No damnation ever looked as cozy as this, but you fit over his hips like they were made for you. You fit, you fit, you fit. On top of him, you are an ancient god that only he remembers and he offers up his skin. And you take it. Who knew sacrifice was so profane? And once you’ve taught him how to hold your throat in one hand and your heart in the other, you will have forgotten every other word, except his name.”

— PROFANE, by Ashe Vernon

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the taste buds renew themselves every ten days to 2 weeks but its been months and i can still taste your lips. i still find your hair in the lint trap of my dryer and my ash tray still has cigarettes stained with lipstick. you love too quick and i love too hard and i forget to set the alarm because its on your side of the bed. im trying my hardest to move on and i took up painting but somehow your name flows into everything i make. i also took up drinking in hopes that i forget how to spell it

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ice skating is like walking in cursive

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Cause I’m evil

Erika with Next Models LA by Robby Mueller

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Women have been driven mad, “gaslighted,” for centuries by the refutation of our experience and our instincts in a culture which validates only male experience. The truth of our bodies and our minds has been mystified to us. We therefore have a primary obligation to each other: not to undermine each others’ sense of reality for the sake of expediency; not to gaslight each other. Women have often felt insane when cleaving to the truth of our experience. Our future depends on the sanity of each of us, and we have a profound stake, beyond the personal, in the project of describing our reality as candidly and fully as we can to each other.

Adrienne Rich, On Lies, Secrets and Silence: Selected Prose (via days-of-reading)

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While we are looking for the antidote or the medicine to cure us, that is, the ‘new’, which can only be found by plunging deep into the Unknown, we have to go on exploring sex, books, and travel, although we know that they lead us to the abyss, which, as it happens, is the only place where the antidote can be found.

Roberto Bolaño (via observando)

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Nurek Reservoir (by becklectic)

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Burlington, Vermont just proved to everyone that it’s possible to power an entire city without using fossil fuels. READ MORE/WATCH VIDEO.

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Rapids

http://tinyurl.com/q5n4g57

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Jacob van Loon Bone China