mia.

it's all very confessional.

Sep 23
nakedrussia:

llttlesophie:

gifcraft:

Bunny falls asleep

bun didn’t actually fall asleep!! bunnies flop over like this when they feel safe and comfortable in their environment. they rarely stretch out and lay down because they’re prey animals, so when ur bun does completely lays on their side or their back, it means they feel 10000% safe around you

nakedrussia:

llttlesophie:

gifcraft:

Bunny falls asleep

bun didn’t actually fall asleep!! bunnies flop over like this when they feel safe and comfortable in their environment. they rarely stretch out and lay down because they’re prey animals, so when ur bun does completely lays on their side or their back, it means they feel 10000% safe around you

(via extremelyfuckingcutebunnies)


instagram:

The Daily Diary of a Sketchbook Artist

To see more photos of Anna’s notebook sketches, follow @sally_mao on Instagram.

“The absolute truth appears in your drawing when you have no chance to change it,” says Moscow-based Instagrammer Anna Rastorgueva (@sally_mao), who creates an exquisite daily diary using only felt-tip markers. She takes inspiration from the detailed illustrations of botany and zoology books, a lifelong love of hers. “When I read ‘Brehm’s Life of Animals,’ I dreamed of meeting all the heroes from the pages of his book,” she explains. Anna draws anywhere, whether standing among thousands of people at a concert or even at a nude beach. For her, drawing is her personal space. “When I draw, I can dive deep into the moment and emotions. As Salvador Dalí said, ‘Drawing is the honesty of the art. There is no possibility of cheating. It is either good or bad.’”


Sep 22

delicious.

Jessie Ware, Wildest Moments.


draft dump number twelve.

unplug your ears baby,

it’s just the sound of life

around

unplug your eyes baby,

it’s just the heavy heartbeat

heaven gave you. 

unplug your mouth baby,

it’s just the voice that could

make my knees melt

and my heart shrink to an edible size

i’d give it you and ask you to yes

consume it

let it dissolve on your tongue

i am not myself when you’re not around.

this great big world is crushing down down

down down

on just about everyone

anyone who says

gravity is questionable

has clearly never tried to stop the earth

on their knees

and we spend a lot of time down here. 

down down.


draft dump number eleven.

i care about so many things

and constantly feel on the verge of vomitting

there isn’t a prescription for living,
luckily,
otherwise we’d all through life like zombified
sufferers of synesthesia

oh wait

i care about so many things

and don’t have any way of showing you

because you didn’t buy what i was offering freely
in
the
first
place

'right is the act'
so act i do
and act we play
on the great big performance of our imaginations

it’s so neat when you meet someone who’s cast themselves
as the fool and
not the diva


draft dump number ten.

i don’t know how to write a poem about exquisite happiness

i don’t know how to write a poem about absolutely contentment

i can write problems

sing issues

paint the world broken and hand you the

pieces

please

fix this

but to write about the way you memorize my body

how you touch every part of me and make it

glow

to chronicle the difference between how you taste

at 2am

and how you taste right now

iron strawberries salt not tears

i’d get shy

i’d get scared

i’d worry you’d look at me too long and notice

the way my body feels

like it can’t hold anymore emotion

like it might explode if you didn’t touch me every other

moment

between every other word

it’s all too much

and i say to myself

you’re being much too obvious

you’re showing so much of your hand

but i’m not done tracing the curves of your hand

not done 


draft dump number nine.

close your mouth
hold your eyes

you don’t even feel like a girl

and i don’t even feel like a good person 


draft dump number eight.

I’d like to know all the times someone has accused the ocean
of loving the sand

like it wanted to love it
like it had a choice
like each time it crawls from its wet depths onto the dry shore
it doesn’t feel the soft fingers of the
sand at the bed
of the ocean floor.

I’d like to know all the times someone told the legend of the sun
and the moon
being lovers eternally kept apart

like the moon isn’t ashamed of her crater face
like the sun doesn’t hate her bleach blonde locks
like it’s easy for them to see each other
every so often against the blue
of the sky
that compliments their
cheekbones
so well.

I’d like to know why we make up stories about love
being easy
and often
and tragic


draft dump number seven.

speculation one. 

if everything is speculative, then i have no evidence
for any residence
of the heart.
any occupation of a single cell fascination with the lower regions of
 


i’m your lion heart. (draft dump number six.)

speak on your voice

speak on your voice

speak on your voice

unless, of course, you have nothing to say
you have nothing to mean
you have nothing to offer but a sudo vacant look at a body on the second floor
crouched over the infinite i haven’t seen the galaxy
behind your pupils for weeks and weeks
but do catch glimpses of the impossible
in your predictable pontifications

we’re predictably unpredictable

honey honey honey,
angel,
i took a walk to the salon today.
they rescheduled my wax and didn’t tell me
so i don’t look as innocent as my heart is
and i still hold malice behind my self-aggrandized martyrdom


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