(Source: julia-geiser, via mudwerks)
centuriespast:
Kiyomizu Hall and Shinobazu Pond at Ueno, No. 11 in One Hundred Famous Views of Edo
- Artist: Utagawa Hiroshige (Ando), Japanese, 1797-1858
- Medium: Woodblock print
- Place Made: Japan
- Dates: 4th month of 1856
- Period: Edo Period, Ansei Era
- Brooklyn Museum
(Source: centuriespast)
In your mouth I glimpsed a fading whisper. A thought you presumed went unnoticed. Something you had meant to mention in passing or perhaps scream in primal fury. But I let it slip away thinking it was just my own desire deluding my precarious reality. I should’ve known better. For all it took was a single innocent caress and with fingers aimed directly at my heart your poignant touch gave it all away. Your unwitting malice, your hidden benevolence, your deep and brilliant passion. Without a single syllable it became quite clear. For a third of a billionth of a second our synapses melded through our fingertips and a lightspeed pulse shot from the fractured worlds in our minds only to cross our dermal boundaries with the slightest grazing interaction. It shot through me and struck the back of my head like a hollow-point, splattering flesh and bone across the sheets. Then all at once, from gore to new born, we were whole again. Though not exactly as before. Somewhere in that moment of simultaneous destruction and reconstitution our veins coiled together, our skeletons jumbled up and puzzle-pieced anew, our nerves welded shut, our guts knotted up. And inside me were the pieces of you that lost their way. And inside you were the fragments of me that finally found exactly where they were meant to be.
(Source: noirnearfuture, via wethinkfreelywtf)
12:34 am | April 24 2013 | 1,547 notes | #photon graphs | #art
(Source: numinousus, via andro-genes)
12:17 am | April 24 2013 | 1,645 notes | #desire | #photon graphs
“Madness, my love”
Awash a hex of spring entwined
with suffering and pestilence contrived
Eat drink fuck partake in revelry
A mass of unintended consequence
covered in a glaze of gallantry
Curses wrought and harsher words ne’er spoken
Eat drink sleep your soul e’er broken
Nerrol, the twins whose tongues bite hard
draw blood and wonder if your selflessness has damned you
Errol: this lake runs red, goodness destroyed d’Alucard
A being of no sex conceived but not nurtured
is a rock, a buzzard’s post, existing but not learned
This is the memorandum we give to goodness
With this we raise our prayers
to our new God
We name him We, for we are he.
And he is very wrathful, indeed.
“Madness, my love”