throw me to the wolves; and i will come back leading the pack.
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Revel in the dark and quiet of the forest at night, the full moon shining brilliantly over you, and race through the trees and embrace freedom again. Become one with the wind howling through the woods.
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i think i hear you but i don’t know if i can answer your call.
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I once was a boy with dreams in his hands and war at the tip of his tongue
I once was a boy with bruises on his arms and ancient forests sleeping inside
I once was a boy with prickling skin and a crown of hornets’ nest
I once was a boy and lived
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Work by じしゃく (twitter)
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やっと勇者服着ました おっそ 気のせいかwiiのときより足短く見えるね??? カメラのせいか そうに違いない
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i do not speak to you, not in your tongue. i speak by my body, muscles tensing under my skin; by my face, by the curl of my lips and the flash of teeth.
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デスマウンテンに鷹匠スポットあってあれこんなんあったっけ…ってなった あるのだ 何周もしてるのにちょいちょい詰むしほどよく忘れてるらしい
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One day I will tell you what I’ve been. It will scare you.
Yrsa Daley-Ward, “revelation,” bone (via lifeinpoetry)
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少~~しだけすすんだ… クリスタ素人のわしにもなんか多機能高機能すげえなっていうのわかるぞ まあ使いこなせないんですけど
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I went looking for my life in the woods like a bloodhound you don’t know what it is to have a story wrapped around you so tight
Jennifer Hanks, “gar child tells it in first-person,” published in The Boiler (via bostonpoetryslam)
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