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If the boy who draws
let’s you look over his shoulder.
If the poet
smiles
and shows you her words.
If the girl who sings for the shower only,
hums a song
in front of you.
Know that you’re no longer a person
but the air
and dust
that fills their lungs.
When the world perishes,
and all things cease to exist,
you’ll remain inside an ink stain,
a paint brush,
a song.
— Alaska Gold
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French tattoo artist Loïc Lavenu, also known by the nickname Xoïl, has a very distinctive Photoshop collage aesthetic. The results are always surreal, sprawling, and highly experimental. Peter is i...
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My breast it is as cold as clay, My breath smells earthly strong; And if you kiss my cold clay lips, Your days they won’t be long, Your days they won’t be long. O down in yonder grave, sweetheart, Where you and I would walk, The first flower that ever I saw Is withered to a stalk, Is withered to a stalk. The stalk is witherd and dry, sweetheart, And the flower will never return; And since I lost my own sweetheart, What can I do but mourn? What can I do but mourn? When shall we meet again, sweetheart? When shall we meet again? When the oaken leaves that fall from the trees Are green and spring up again, Are green and spring up again”
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winning at romance
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There are not enough cute sharks on my dash. How do I fix this?
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nuruko @nuruko | Websta (Webstagram)
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Do you like girls who s w o o n, Jon Snow?
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