The Nymph of Amalthea, 1780s

The Nymph of Amalthea, 1780s

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oh fuck he getting it

this video is so good-hearted. this video has never failed to make me smile

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Arbes | Jaume García Tarré


Arbes | 

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lil sperm streetlights 


lil sperm streetlights 

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Edie Nadelhaft
Palm Diptych


Edie Nadelhaft

Palm Diptych

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2A Hopeful Romantic

For too long I’ve defied myself. Refined but not well kept.
My body, contained and still.
Too cold to touch.
Hands and feet to carry my weight and hold,
such a task, They are worn and reddened.
Lips sewn and sorrow still hungry to speak.

They can kiss, but a story is only made up.
It isn’t true like you are.
If my breath on your skin,
like a gust, frosting over healing bones,
could make it clear, I’d gift wrap it for you.

Instead, my lips stay stubborn and mortal.
Only waiting in heed, until you sing with ease,
Melting my ears into butterflies
That dance, fly over to your shoulder.
And kiss you on the cheeks.
Drunk with love, they sing along.

My back, torn and heavy.
Burdened with my stress is brought upright.
Placing bones into posture.
Lungs, only ever half full and with that of tar
And other toxic things are filling with sweet air.
Breathing in melody with the wind,
And harmonizing with the willow trees
That are singing back at me,
“why don’t you say something?”

So I sit under that tree, blind from thought
as sound is a foreign thing, so I watch.
Shaded, by the sway, I rest.
I sing a simple breath.
Relieved, The ground is still.
Osiers tickle my neck
As she braids my hair away from face.
My butterflies joyous, come back to rest at home.
And I hear you breathe the same song.