Conjurings

fucking exquisite

Tilda, Tom, please devour me

Everything in his life had come down to the sensation of her fingers against his. The person he was, the history he carried within himself, every joy and grief he had ever experienced, slipped way like an irrelevant garment. He was nothing but skin, speaking to another skin, and between the skins there was no need to find any words.

—Kate Grenville, The Lieutenant (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

harvestheart:

The New Zealand team perform the Haka after beating England in the Cup Final during the 2014 Hong Kong SevensPicture: Cameron Spencer/Getty Images

harvestheart:

The New Zealand team perform the Haka after beating England in the Cup Final during the 2014 Hong Kong SevensPicture: Cameron Spencer/Getty Images

(via norninthenorth)

have you considered that maybe i am not pleasant?

maybe i wear lipstick so that
you will see my pretty pink mouth
wrapping around a coffee cup lid
and be distracted enough not to notice
that i am intelligent and powerful;
a threat.

maybe i draw my brows into high arches
so you will look at my unimpressed skepticism
and overlook my spiteful glare
as a trick of my silly, girlish routine.

maybe i wear my heels so high and thin
so that i grasp your attention with the sway of my hips
as i listen to the click-clack-click against the floor
and know that if you should try to overpower me
i walk on sharpened knives.

maybe when i laugh at your worthless jokes
i am really baring my fangs
waiting patiently for the day
that i sink them into your neck.

i am not made of porcelain pleasantries;
you will find that these things are my armor
to keep you at a distance
so you do not step on me and shatter
my fragile control.

i am not a husk — i am not wilting.
i am turning my head
so that the fire blazing through my eyes
does not catch on the accelerant of your sweaty palms
and burn your bones to dust.

i am not your pretty girl;
i am a fury, a faerie, a phoenix —
a forest of werewolves and wendigos
that will carve out your chest
so that the next time i paint my pretty pink lips
i will taste the copper tang of your dying breaths.

R.K., I Am The Wolf Only Barely Contained (via jameskerk)

(Source: dallisons, via norninthenorth)

If there is a God, He will have to beg my forgiveness.

—A phrase that was carved on the walls of a concentration camp cell during WWII by a Jewish prisoner (via ancient-serpent)

(Source: notclarissa, via ancient-serpent)