i am what you need what when you can’t find it somewhere else

i am what you want when you don’t want anything else

(via nevver)

(Source: mahlibombing, via babsdraws)

(Source: whitelaws, via longjonathans)

mothers day

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.

(via nevver)

(via johnman)

(Source: vicforprez, via greyveins)

William Stanford Knudsen: On Having Phone Sex With Your Ex-Girlfriend

 

There is nothing noble about having phone sex

with your ex-girlfriend in the bathroom of a friend’s apartment.

The shower curtain looks offended.

Tile ashamed to touch bare feet, toes curling.

Mildew in the bathtub corner is judging me.

But I am only flesh, muscle, and blood. A collection of parts

that ache and spill over. She loves him now.

But we still search the static of each other’s lonely,

trying to pull and honest fuck out of the phone line.

Bears stir in our bellies. They slept a season

and woke hungry. The audience holds its breath.

She moans theatrically and we are playing our roles just right now.

I fall into character without skipping a beat. We both close our eyes

and pretend we are acting out our favorite scene.

But I am monologuing to an empty room.

My body echoing nostalgia, harsh breath fogging the mirror

instead of dancing the nape of her neck.

I knew a girl once who had never touched a man

but practiced kissing with her vanity mirror.

We are much too old for this,

supposed to be trained better than

barking at closed doors.

I want to say I’ve thought about the arched dimples

on her lower back every day for two years

but that is not in the script.

So we just talk empty dirty until we come

and hang up as the credits roll our names.

Cleaning up to go back to our lives

and temporary lovers.

I step out of the bathroom only as myself.

A tired spindle, a film reel unwound.

A man undone.