hereunoia:

If the boy who draws

let’s you look over his shoulder.

If the poet

smiles

and shows you her words.

If the girl who sings for the shower only,

hums a song

in front of you.

Know that you’re no longer a person

but the air

and dust

that fills their lungs.

When the world perishes,

and all things cease to exist,

you’ll remain inside an ink stain,

a paint brush,

a song.

— Alaska Gold

(via vanillavendettavengeance)

autumnseeds:

why am I not one of those bloggers that attracts millions of anons every day 

(via melissafromtherose)

pizzattack:

the only thigh gap i care about is the one you get when i spread your legs

(via melissafromtherose)