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What I can't say out loud or to anyone else.


I live in the grey, skate the line, and like the masks that I hide behind. Meet me in a dream, that's where I like to scream, and then eat ice cream. You are you, I am me. But, if you yearn for more of the story, all you need to do is ask.


I write about what I see, and then twist them into tales written on the page. What else can I say, but I am natural born storyteller with stars in their eyes looking for somewhere to shine.


This is where I post things I have written and sometimes a place where I post pictures, when I can't write and am waiting for inspiration to hit. Most of my stories are raw pieces; so just lose yourself in the story and stop judging my grammar.

Time to just be and stop becoming.

1953 illustration by Roy Price.

1953 illustration by Roy Price.


esotericsnob:

tamburina:

 Tomer Hanuka - Marquis De Sade / Philosophy in the Boudior book cover

♥

esotericsnob:

tamburina:

 Tomer HanukaMarquis De Sade / Philosophy in the Boudior book cover


Words are living legends, swollen with significance. We string them together to make stories, but they themselves are stories, encapsulating rich, runny histories.

Alena Graedon, The Word Exchange (via meredithturits)

noirsinoir:

“So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it.”
- Hermann Hesse

noirsinoir:

“So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it.”

- Hermann Hesse


mainlyboredom:

matveyandothernames:

annabellehector:

what just happened

a pair of lungs got filled with air and it was awesome

that’s happening inside of you…

mainlyboredom:

matveyandothernames:

annabellehector:

what just happened

a pair of lungs got filled with air and it was awesome

that’s happening inside of you…


I want to stain your lips with my name
So even if years later we aren’t kissing each other,
Girls will still taste the love we had

S. (via melon-milk)

erosart:

Brian Viveros


ihavenohonor:

Pluto, Roman god of the underworld and the judge of the dead. Pluto was also the son of Saturn!

ihavenohonor:

Pluto, Roman god of the underworld and the judge of the dead. Pluto was also the son of Saturn!


For her ways are ways of death,
and her paths are roads of sin,
and her tracks are pathways to iniquity,
and her by-ways are rebellious wrong-doings.
Her gates are gates of death,
and from the entrance of the house
she sets out towards the underworld.
None of those who enter there will ever return,
and all who possess her will descend to the Pit.

The Dead Sea Scrolls, 4Q184 (via draco-magne)

Again and again he gave thanks for his own escape; he had been set free from a life of vice and sin and folly, from all the dangers and illusions that are most dreaded by the wise. He laughed as he remembered what would be the common view of the situation. An ordinary lover would suffer all the sting of sorrow and contempt; there would be grief for a lost mistress, and rage at her faithlessness, and hate in the heart; one foolish passion driving on another, and driving the man to ruin. For what would be commonly called the real woman he now cared nothing; if he had heard that she had died in her farm in Utter Gwent, he would have experienced only a passing sorrow, such as he might feel at the death of any one he had once known. But he did not think of the young farmer’s wife as the real Annie; he did not think of the frost-bitten leaves in winter as the real rose.

The Hill of Dreams by Arthur Machen (via jaded-toddler)

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