[opening horn riff from shakira’s “hips don’t lie”] i have arrived
The air is thick with dead bodies. Breathe in, breathe out the daily crematorium. Lung up on the dead. The bellows in your rib cage are home to millions, tall like you, uncertain like you, mother, father, sister, friend, tenemented into spinning lots, decayed from mastery into breath.
You live on particle physics. You are a science museum.
What tales would they tell, those compressed mites whom neither name nor influence nor jewels nor obscurity can save from the merciless vacuum of your nostrils? What do you not know that there is in you now, a Caesar, a Raphael, a tear of Mozart, the ended bowel problems of Napoleon at Waterloo? Breathe, all powerful one, and vanquish kingdoms as you do. Your idiot nose has sucked up Rome. Your open mouth has spewed out the Thames…
…What Rome? What Thames? The flaking stone, the crumbles of bread, the dirt on the feet of St Peter, the patina of the Basilica, petals from Easter Sunday 1603, the drift of barges, tar of warships, twists of sheep wool, quick of eel. The tallow, felt, oil, food, intestinal belch of matter breaking down, breaking up, passing on, passing into you, star-dust that you are, dust to dust.
Sneeze? After all I have told you, you are going to sneeze? Call yourself Vesuvius? Your larval eruptions have shattered the room into a Pompeii of time’s wreckage. You have strewn the table-top with palaces.
—Gut Symmetries, Jeanette Winters.
(via piesammy)
The Oncoming Storm
The Destroyer of Worlds
The Lonely God
The Predator
Indirectly offending a friend
(Source: bravebilbo)
(Source: lifesucksthenyouregenerate)
(Source: lodbroks)
(Source: triponiophorustyrannus)
(Source: joshanddrake)
Requested by kingpeej.
okay excuse me a minute whilst i curl up in a ball and cry uncontrollably.
Dear Diary: Tonight I’m sneaking off to the abandoned taffy factory to look for treasure. Also, if boys had uteruses, they’d be called duderuses.
literally angie
(Source: jjharrison)




