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Phosphorescent - Song for Zula

11:16 pm, by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments

11:31 pm, reblogged from 1000drawings by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments

Contain yourself
I will compress
What I am to
Replace yourself
With what you have
Your substitute
Only wanted a piece of myself
Steam will rise
Esteem will rise
Steam will rise
Esteem will rise

Refrain, confess
Contain, repress
Pretend I’m dead
Abuse myself
Confuse myself
I won’t be led

Only wanted a piece of myself
Only wanted a piece of myself
Only wanted a piece of myself
Steam will rise
Esteem will rise
Steam will rise
Esteem will rise

11:31 pm, by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments



after seven years, no matter how precious
the stories they are given to carry,
every cell in the body is replaced.
they must pass on their ache somehow.
your name still quivers my desire.
and yet, i can imagine finding someone else
while you cry in my arms, what love looks like

09:44 pm, reblogged from Etiquette, etc. by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments

someone can be madly in love with you and still not be ready. they can love you in a way you have never been loved and still not join you on the bridge. and whatever their reasons you must leave. because you never ever have to inspire anyone to meet you on the bridge. you never ever have to convince someone to do the work to be ready. there is more extraordinary love, more love that you have never seen, out here in this wide and wild universe. and there is the love that will be ready.
nayyirah waheed (via etiquette-etc)

09:40 pm, reblogged from Etiquette, etc. by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments

01:34 am, reblogged from Dirty Pretty Things by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments

It turns out procrastination is not typically a function of laziness, apathy or work ethic as it is often regarded to be. It’s a neurotic self-defense behavior that develops to protect a person’s sense of self-worth.

You see, procrastinators tend to be people who have, for whatever reason, developed to perceive an unusually strong association between their performance and their value as a person. This makes failure or criticism disproportionately painful, which leads naturally to hesitancy when it comes to the prospect of doing anything that reflects their ability — which is pretty much everything.

But in real life, you can’t avoid doing things. We have to earn a living, do our taxes, have difficult conversations sometimes. Human life requires confronting uncertainty and risk, so pressure mounts. Procrastination gives a person a temporary hit of relief from this pressure of “having to do” things, which is a self-rewarding behavior. So it continues and becomes the normal way to respond to these pressures.

Particularly prone to serious procrastination problems are children who grew up with unusually high expectations placed on them. Their older siblings may have been high achievers, leaving big shoes to fill, or their parents may have had neurotic and inhuman expectations of their own, or else they exhibited exceptional talents early on, and thereafter “average” performances were met with concern and suspicion from parents and teachers.

12:18 am, reblogged from in the end we're all animals by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments

I love tattooed women, maybe because they are uncontrollable, they are themselves to the point of drawing symbols of their power on their skin. Talk about owning your own body, being in your body, claiming yourself. I love it. When the world is in an uproar over whether women should have a choice or not when it comes to their own bodies, being tattooed is one of the most visible choices of all.
Margaret Cho (via onehundreddollars)

01:16 pm, reblogged from CELESTIAL by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments


The essence of decadenceProgetto fotografico di Tania Brassesco e Lazlo Passi Norberto

(Source: coolaa)

11:54 pm, reblogged from CELESTIAL by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments

You touch my lips and I
Kiss your hips,
Rose pink to dappled
Peach and fawn

Sunbeams strike your eyes and you
Take me by surprise,
Iridescent child of fevered
Sleep so scared

Last night, my love
Our cries turned our mouths towards our
Full moon, our winter bloom
Wolves running wild in our
Lust so lost

And this morning we are
Trampled grass on mountain tops
Windswept and sadly slept
With daisies crushed across
Our barren bodies.

We Are Mountain Wolves. (via paralian)

I can’t make sense of today.

(via wilderskin)

06:50 pm, reblogged from CELESTIAL by yrmillionsweetnesses Comments