ghostwriters-r-us:

petrak:

asidewalksymphony:

ikantenggelem:

Mini Matchstick Gun - The Clothespin Pocket Pistol by The King of Random

SCREAMS HAPPILY

Oh my god. I remember making clothespeg guns as a kid but none functional enough to shoot fire.

I WANT IT. I WANT IT NOW.

(via sarah-jo-nothing-wells)

misplaced ardour

affection turns to violence
joy to hatred
laughter to tears
contentment replaced with rage
comfort with hollowness
sanity with silence
light with darkness
the rumble of a beating heart
is no longer caused by love
the thought there of misplaced and torn
lightning leaves the heart scorched and burned
you look at yourself
those teary eyes in your skull
so sick of this feeling
so sick of it all
go fucking insane
or try not to be upset
rip the mirror from the wall and smash it on the floor
flood the bathroom with your unforgiving tears
let your anger like a hurricane
destroy whats left of the house
forget the reason you even began this journey
you have destroyed your own ship my foolish one
a fruitless voyage
you dock in the port you sailed from
a disgusting languished mess
your masts are snaped in half
your bow droops low towards the murderous water
and you lift your eyes to the sky
the thunder chuckles maliciously
and the clouds give a flickering wink
for when youre path descided
youre life boat you will sink

fyeahbatgirl:

Batgirl by Oliver Nome

fyeahbatgirl:

Batgirl by Oliver Nome

flyawaymax:

porrim-some-sugar-on-me:

usbdongle:

significantmelancholy:

nevver:

Where you feel it

bringing this back because important 

#the cold crotch of contempt

"I hate that guy so much he makes my dick cold"

but what is spiderman so ashamed of

flyawaymax:

porrim-some-sugar-on-me:

usbdongle:

significantmelancholy:

nevver:

Where you feel it

bringing this back because important 

"I hate that guy so much he makes my dick cold"

but what is spiderman so ashamed of

(via vvendys)

in a corner

brightlightsloudnoises:

sometimes
after 
a month of
coming home
to my room
night after night
i forget that i’ve seen
stars over arkansas
and girls laughing
with their stomachs flat on
the bar,
that
i’ve seen the Rockies
approach and leave in mirrors
and
i’ve seen
smoke curl
like galaxies
in a diner
between two people
with nowhere to go
and nothing to talk about

i feel like i’ve painted myself
into a corner
but
at night,
drunk,
and in the right light,
i like the painting