i have just found out that ‘pie’ means ‘godly’ in latin no joke omfg 

I came home with you and it was beautiful and we fought like we always fight, except I’m getting tired. I’m too invested to be ok with your insults, too weary to fob you off with my own. We’ve had a wonderful couple of days back at Uni but you’re keeping your phone away from me and strange scratch marks keep appearing on your back. They’re not me, I know you only like it between your shoulder-blades, and never hard enough to draw blood. You’re blaming them on the gym equipment. 

I wished that woman would write and proclaim this unique empire so that other women, other unacknowledged sovereigns, might exclaim: I, too, overflow; my desires have invented new desires, my body knows unheard-of songs. Time and again I, too, have felt so full of luminous torrents that I could burst - burst with forms much more beautiful than those which are put up in frames and sold for a stinking fortune. And I, too, said nothing, showed nothing; I didn’t open my mouth, I didn’t repaint my half of the world. I was ashamed. I was afraid, and I swallowed my shame and my fear. I said to myself: You are mad! What’s the meaning of these waves, these floods, these outbursts? Who, surprised and horrified by the fantastic tumult of her drives, hasn’t accused herself of being a monster? Who, feeling a funny desire stirring inside her, hasn’t thought she was sick?

Helene Cixous, from The Laugh of the Medusa

Sin Fang Bous - Catch The Light


well i rather embarrassingly got a cheeky video deleted off the private blog i have for the boy. do you think the moderators watched it first? how massively awkward. 

Ok so my night out and talking to my sister’s friends have provided a lot of clarity on the readership of this blog. To provide clarity on the content, THIS BLOG IS MINE. I post what I post, and that includes, on occasion, some graphic descriptions/photos of my relationships. Not dissimilar, I might add, to thousands of other blogs on tumblr. I should not be hounded as the county’s easiest fuck as a result. I should not be judged. And I really don’t want to start moderating my posts in order to stop this happening but I feel like it’s heading that way. Just, ugh. SOME PEOPLE, INCLUDING ME, HAVE SEX. Can we just deal with that concept and move on please.

This is the desk I sit at
and this is the desk where I love you too much
and this is the typewriter that sits before me
where yesterday only your body sat before me
with its shoulders gathered in like a Greek chorus,
with its tongue like a king making up rules as he goes,
with its tongue quite openly like a cat lapping milk,
with its tongue — both of us coiled in its slippery life.
That was yesterday, that day.

That was the day of your tongue,
your tongue that came from your lips,
two openers, half animals, half birds
caught in the doorway of your heart.
That was the day I followed the king’s rules,
passing by your red veins and your blue veins,
my hands down the backbone, down quick like a firepole,
hands between legs where you display your inner knowledge,
where diamond mines are buried and come forth to bury,
come forth more sudden than some reconstructed city.
It is complete within seconds, that monument.
The blood runs underground yet brings forth a tower.
A multitude should gather for such an edifice.
For a miracle one stands in line and throws confetti.
Surely The Press is here looking for headlines.
Surely someone should carry a banner on the sidewalk.
If a bridge is constructed doesn’t the mayor cut a ribbon?
If a phenomenon arrives shouldn’t the Magi come bearing gifts?
Yesterday was the day I bore gifts for your gift
and came from the valley to meet you on the pavement.
That was yesterday, that day.

That was the day of your face,
your face after love, close to the pillow, a lullaby.
Half asleep beside me letting the old fashioned rocker stop,
our breath became one, became a child-breath together,
while my fingers drew little o’s on your shut eyes,
while my fingers drew little smiles on your mouth,
while I drew I LOVE YOU on your chest and its drummer
and whispered, ‘Wake up!’ and you mumbled in your sleep,
‘Sh. We’re driving to Cape Cod. We’re heading for the Bourne
Bridge. We’re circling the Bourne Circle.’ Bourne!
Then I knew you in your dream and prayed of our time
that I would be pierced and you would take root in me
and that I might bring forth your born, might bear
the you or the ghost of you in my little household.
Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed
but this is the typewriter that sits before me
and love is where yesterday is at.

Anne Sexton, “That Day” (via petrichour)

(via petrichour)

I understand that, I'll keep an eye out. Will we get one tonight though? And nope, I'm new. Been following you a while though :)

Sadly not I’m afraid (mainly because I’m too lazy to retrieve my power cord and this baby’s gonna run outa steam in 3 mins). Aww well thanks for taking an interest, in that case! :) Stay tuned xx