ProcrastiaNation

Hello, my names Nathaly, I'm 16 jus looking for a place to dump my crap

I realize that I am bitter, and I plan on keeping it that way (via afwul)

(via afwul)

I stopped believing in love when I was 11 years old. At the same time that I first saw my fathers hand go across my mothers face reality did the same to me and I realized none of it was real. I once read a story about a man who loved a blind woman so dearly that he gave one of his own eyes so that she could see. Once the woman could see, she left this man because he was ugly. I keep telling myself that maybe one day I will believe in love yet again. It is because of this that I have ripped myself open to so many people and now there is nothing left. I am completely empty. I have given entirely too much of myself to boys who only touched my body because their body was intoxicated with the thought of fucking my brains out. No one will ever fill me. Here I stand, with gashes leaving every part of me completely open. No matter how many human beings come by and pour themselves into me it will pour right back out. So ask me again why don’t I believe in love. I don’t believe in love because love is not calling you at 3am begging for you to fuck me just because I need to feel something. Love is not my fathers hand across my mothers face. Love is not giving your eye to a charming blind woman and being left because you are undesirable. Love does not exist, people only let themselves believe that because they are entirely lonesome and need to feel the fire of another’s fingertips burning against their skin. Love is none of these things, because love does not exist.

jessica therese, “Magnificent Mouth” (via contramonte)

(via backshelfpoet)

You possess the most
magnificent mouth.
Mouth like rinse clean,
like resistance,
like I’m going to erase all the others
who came before me.
Mouth that formed the words
“Come here,” and I did,
and I wasn’t afraid.
I close my eyes and
see your clothes floating
in the lake. I open them
and envision you wearing a
flower crown, the rain just
beginning to fall outside
and us, slow-dancing in it.
You are made for poetry
and it is killing me.
Here, these words.
Here, another metaphor
for the heart.
Here, my heart on the table,
waiting to be dissected.

TemperedFury on Philip DeFranco’s, creator of the YouTube channel Philly D, use of racialized language.  (via knowledgeequalsblackpower)

(Source: america-wakiewakie, via yzmavocado)

Ratchet is a racialized term. So is ghetto. So is thug. So is welfare queen. Someone does not have to EXPLICITLY say the word “black” in order for something to be racist against black people. Speaking in flagrantly racist terms is one of the least sophisticated manifestations of racism today.

raynrvzjr:

at least SOMEONE laughs at my jokes. it’s me. i laugh at my own jokes.

(via yzmavocado)

(via extrasad)

(via afwul)

kiss me through the blood and pretend you can’t taste the time I cut too deep or the time my mother kicked me out.

drink me like your insides are dry, I want to feel your mouth. You’re the only thing I can feel.

drown in me like you don’t care that I cry in my sleep or get so sad that I stop washing my hair.

hold me like I’m not covered in open wounds. Fill them with sweet nothings and kiss me like you mean it.

love me because you want to, not because you can or you think I’ll break if you don’t. Love me like I love you.

I love you.

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