“You’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.”
— Richard Siken, from “Crush.”
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[on the verge of having a complete breakdown] i need to make some kind of list or perhaps sort things into categories
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OKAY series of polls about sock preferences because i'm a curious autistic fuck:
(if you don't wear socks don't answer any of the other questions)
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omg we are both fucked in the head wanna make out
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Jean Moreau be like Neil Josten was supposed to be my best friend and I consider that loss to be one of the worst things that ever happened to me. He's one of the select few who I trust to take me and my problems seriously and make good on his promises to me. Unfortunately he is also the fucking antichrist and everything he does is calibrated to spike my blood pressure.
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This is a comment someone appended to a photo of two men apparently having sex in a very fancy room, but it’s also kind of an amazing two-line poem? “His Wife has filled his house with chintz” is a really elegant and beautiful counterbalancing of h, f, and s sounds, and “chintz” is a perfect word choice here—sonically pleasing and good at evoking nouveau riche tackiness. And then “to keep it real I fuck him on the floor” collapses that whole mood with short percussive sounds—but it’s still a perfect iambic pentameter line, robust and a lovely obscene contrast with the chintz in the first line. Well done, tumblr user jjbang8
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I absolutely love jerejean but it’s devastating knowing that kevjean may have had a future in another universe. that their red thread was cut in this one. their threads may still intersect but they’re connected to other people now.
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"As if I'm not what you're waiting for, like I'm not in your ending. Yeah, for now we'll both keep on pretending"
Pretending by Fletcher [x]
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“Will you tell me your name?”
“Gansey.”
“Is that all?”Â
“That’s all there is.”
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Night and Day by Dominik Mayer
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He was years away, watching a different beautiful boy lean in close to say, Will you teach me when he’s not watching? It could be our secret.
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tfw you were my childhood best friend and the only person who I could talk to who understood because we were each others only witnesses, and I taught you French because you asked for it to be our secret and you brought me magnets and wrote post cards from cities when you left because I wasn’t allowed to leave, and I’m only still alive because you made me promise not to leave you, and I loved you but you couldn’t look away from the game long enough to let yourself love me back, and when they hurt you enough that you couldn’t play anymore I distracted them, because you asked me to, but in order to leave you had to slit my throat and I thought you were so beautiful and I still do only now I can’t talk to you anymore ,
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somebody get that girl a large sized beverage before she loses it completely
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