Reblogged from moon pie
My God,” he gasped, “you’re fun to kiss.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is The Night  (via 69rooms)
Reblogged from
riderphanomhive:

memeguy-com:

There is no good and evil there is only power

I swear to god I tried to scroll.

riderphanomhive:

memeguy-com:

There is no good and evil there is only power

I swear to god I tried to scroll.

Reblogged from he called me Melon
kataylorr:

Buy Bo Burnham’s “Egghead” poetry book or you will regret your entire life probably.


I have this book and it’s amazing.

kataylorr:

Buy Bo Burnham’s “Egghead” poetry book or you will regret your entire life probably.

I have this book and it’s amazing.

Reblogged from The Snitch of Awkward
kataylorr:

Buy Bo Burnham’s “Egghead” poetry book or you will regret your entire life probably.


I have this book and it’s amazing.

kataylorr:

Buy Bo Burnham’s “Egghead” poetry book or you will regret your entire life probably.

I have this book and it’s amazing.

Reblogged from The Snitch of Awkward

imhiskindofcrazy:

yourpetdog:

yourpetdog:

what if i ordered pizza in the middle of the hurricane.

they yelled at me.

image

Reblogged from FAQUEESH dot TUMBLR
Reblogged from LOL

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

W.B. Yeats, “The Second Coming.”

I find myself thinking about Yeats’ “rough beast” a lot of late. Yeats thought a shared apocalypse was nigh. But it seems to the beast comes for us one at a time.

One of my favorite poems, from one of my favorite poets.

Reblogged from John Green's tumblr
lokisspy:

what a deal

lokisspy:

what a deal

Reblogged from hard grunge