It was always going to come down to this.

It was always going to come down to this.

In Stride

I have been told, often enough

That to write these letters

With no intention to send,

Are keys to forgotten kingdoms

Water for the withered

Roots of your tree.

Mourning in place over

the fallen wood, whispering faulty prayers

For every transgression, imagined and otherwise

Mashing into pulp and paper

These wounds, so tender.

I have never forgotten,

Nor allowed myself to forget

The rage of your eyes

Demanding proof that I love you.

And I have never forgotten,

Nor allowed myself to forget

The crime in my stride

As I fled from your side.

You know I love you but you’re mean.

Executive Shaman

Re:  Current Events

Re: Current Events

(Source: greatgrottu, via nationalbeauhemian)

Full Frontal Tilda

Osito latte

Osito latte

Crazy P - “Virtuality”

Medicine - “Turning”