throneofsmut:

I like books with romances that start off as fuck you then turns into fuck me

I used to believe

that smoking cigarettes

was the most toxic way

I could destroy my lungs,

until you touched my lips

and I decided

to breathe you in.

Connotativewords | jl | Poison (via connotativewords)

Never presume that I will not act on my worst instincts.

Cesare Borgia (via a-bear-dance)

I wrote your name
in sparrows blood upon a madhouse wall.

Dax Riggs
(via liquidlightandrunningtrees)

this afternoon I was writing down a few things I needed from the store in an old notebook. I flipped the page to continue my list when I stumbled across a note I had written to myself:

Dear you,
one day you may feel lost and one day you may forget who you are but please remember these things:

-you are your own responsibilty
-there is nothing scary in your room, go to sleep
-happiness can be found in clean sheets
-but remember cheap laundry detergent sucks
-cold air feels good in your lungs, breathe deep
-familiarity makes you feel anxious, remember to adventure
-you first, always
-you alone are your future
-the sun will always rise, even on a rainy day
-always open your blinds and tie back your curtains
-“we’ve only just started this party”
-take a walk even if you don’t know where you are going
-the sun will always burn your skin. (I swear if you mess up our skin I will be so mad at you. wear sunscreen!)
-stop buying bagels, you never eat them
-think deep and find beauty in the little things
-I told you he wasn’t the one

taped to the back was a $20 bill and sloppy cursive,
“I bet your gas light is on.”

signed August 2011//d.a.h

Whispering Bones, by Drew Hairgrove
Purchase your copy here

(via whisperingbones)

How did you lose her?
I felt trapped,
but another man
looked at my prison
and called her a church

Rudy Francisco
(via thelovejournals)

I’ve read that if an avalanche buries you and you’re lying there underneath all that snow, you can’t tell which way is up or down. You want to dig yourself out but pick the wrong way, and you dig yourself to your own demise. That was how I felt, disoriented, suspended in confusion, stripped of my compass.

Khaled Hosseini, And The Mountains Echoed
(via wordsnquotes)

themanalive:

Source:  ”Chop Your Own Wood“ Designed by: Menachem Krinsky via wood-is-good

bpdcharlesxavier:

hawke: im going into hightown anyone want anything
anders: freedom for mages
hawke: yeah i got like 3 bucks