Purple Dreams

“I've always liked the time before dawn because there's no one around to remind me who I'm supposed to be so it's easier to remember who I am.”



Even our guinea pigs are Boston Bruins fans. (Their names are in the captions of the pictures.)

These guinea pigs are being raised right

Immortal laughter

Her hair feels light

Highlighted by the sun

Weightless in those moments she’ll not forget

She flicks her head and throws a smile

Hiding her encroaching dread

Soon she’ll be gone for awhile

She laughs heartily

It’s better that way.

No One is thinking of goodbyes

Only of the sound of her chuckle and the smell of her perfume-

Redolent of coconut.

Mixed with the salty air it makes her reek of summer nights at the beach

That night she is trying to avoid oblivion

Trying to remember everything

On the path to tomorrow

She loses herself in the moment

And is immortal

Like the waves

(Source: kit-harington, via segsandmarchy)

Hockey players that are ridiculously gorgeous → Bobby Ryan
Hockey players that are ridiculously gorgeous
Bobby Ryan

(Source: biggestbeautyoftheleague, via perfect-patrice)


SPOTLIGHT: Tiny Tattoos by Austin Tott 

This awesome photo series titled ‘Tiny Tattoos’ by Austin Tott, a photographer based in Seattle, Washington, revolves around just that. More after the jump:

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(via ablativeofyourmotherssorrow)

Sepulchre Sestina

Absurd- Around here only black and blue
They wait- discussing God and grief before the mass
Alas- the song predicts the tears to be
Behold, the little children cry- and men
They think they read the life in full: untrue
Within them pain upon the face a lie

A Huck? Until upon the wood you lie
Amongst some cloth, some cloth the color blue
Escape is pointless and result untrue
Restrained by wood prepared to hold a mass
Not meant to break the boards to rejoin men
Despite his wants he can’t with humans be

Among the graves his body will now be
Rebuffed from life he now right here will lie
Hurrah, huzzah, another soul- ferrymen
At night the yard grows dark the sky so blue
The stars and moon above will hold their mass
The darkness seeping into souls untrue

The tears, the cries, the mourning all untrue
If they had been as glad as sad they be,
And all the love had been applied- a mass,
Of joy to thee- above the ground he’d lie
What really kills is when a soul is blue
Avoid the dirt and things which hurt all men

A broken mind it kills so many men
The myth of “fine” is bitterly untrue
Alas, it makes a rosy period blue
Beneath the mind the inner demons be
Issues undercover come here to lie
And hide themselves amongst- in with the mass

Throughout the body seeps the sadness mass
Around the body flows this scourge of men
Abundant are the deaths- and here they lie
Above the ground they say he’s dead- untrue
The cries absorb the flowers till sad they be
They wilt, they die, reflecting somber blue

The mass of tears and cries and outfits blue
The program lies its words are most untrue
These men forget the truth to mourners be

(Source: butthorn, via gnarlyy-xo)