Hello Stranger

It's a mad, mad world out there. Welcome to my fragmented mind. Stay as long as you like.

(Source: lastvhs)

Before, during, after.

Magnetic resonance imaging.

They say good things come in threes.

Or was it bad things?

But I managed to receive the good, I think.

Hope is not lost. Joy can be scarily overwhelming.

(Source: phosphataseicecream)

"Take everything off, except for your undies. And everything metal."

(Source: phosphataseicecream)

End, middle, end. 

I’ve always wanted to do this. And not care. Not let the comings and goings move me. Not until I have taken what I wanted from this visual arena.  

(Source: phosphataseicecream)

I did not go home that night. 

It was our last dinner with N. We’ll see her next year though. I hope she finds herself in South Korea, while teaching there. M and I nearly-cuddled near dawn. An elbow touching my ribs, warmth conserved with minimal space in between.

She cooked me breakfast before leaving for work. I fixed the bed. Breakfast became cold while I hurried to catch the sky awakening. The city felt half-asleep. 

(Source: phosphatasececream)

You’re my blood, you’re my holy wine.

You taste so bitter. You taste so sweet.

I can drink a case of you, darling,

and I would still be on my feet.

Still be on my feet.

phosphataseicecream:

I want my grandchildren one day to question me about the past, where we came from, what we did, who we were.
Though tribal tattoos were a cultural tradition linked with head hunting and not to be assumed as purely aesthetics, that period has passed. I wonder what new traditions will be born in our generation?

(I forgot to link the rest of the photographs from Sidney Snoeck. He photographed these beautiful women. They carry the marks of a tradition quickly fading away.)

phosphataseicecream:

I want my grandchildren one day to question me about the past, where we came from, what we did, who we were.

Though tribal tattoos were a cultural tradition linked with head hunting and not to be assumed as purely aesthetics, that period has passed. I wonder what new traditions will be born in our generation?

(I forgot to link the rest of the photographs from Sidney Snoeck. He photographed these beautiful women. They carry the marks of a tradition quickly fading away.)

bofransson:

Michelle Morin - California Coast In February

bofransson:

Michelle Morin - California Coast In February

(via hobbitbilbo)

There are days

Or nights

when your knees

voluntarily gravitate

towards your chest.

Protective mechanisms

begin to activate

without consent

or prior notice.

You curl into a

a bean -

not a ball -

but a seed

that may look dead

but in time,

will sprout out limbs.

Shrinking for now,

letting bare chest

press against cold knees.

There are days

when worn hearts

need to sleep.

(Source: phosphataseicecream)