Sext: Pull me into your chest. Inhale me like one of your cigarettes. Savor my taste; soak in my scent. Allow me to leave you gasping for fresh air.

Sext: I’m exhausted. I no longer wish to imagine your hands tracing the contour of my frame. Dominate me. Wake my body from the unconscious wasteland it has become. Please, climb inside of me and plant your presence.

Sext: I thought I was finished with inviting toxins in to taint my bloodstream, but holy shit, one look at you and I wanted to inject you straight into my veins.

Sext: I want to make a home of your lips.

Sext; Kiss me until the only thing I can taste is your name burned into my tongue.

Sext: I’ll look up at you through green eyes and I’ll feel you shake.

Sext: I feel you breathe “fuck” on to my neck and I moan your name into your ear.

Sext: Our bodies pressed against each other could write symphonies. I want to become the song you can’t get out of your head.

Sext: I crave your fingertips on my mouth.

Sext: I’d like to drown in you.

Sext: Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.

Sext: I wouldn’t mind melting into you.

Sext: I bet you feel so good between my thighs.

Sexts - cocainerocks (via cocainerocks)

One of my philosophy professors lectured wildly about love once, yelling: ‘When you’re in love with someone, that person is the lighthouse of your universe.’ (I scrawled it inside Science and Poetry in pencil—lighthouse of your universe—as if I would ever forget that phrase.) He was a delightful caricature of his position. I could swear he literally tore his hair out while howling at us. He went on, ‘Nothing means as much without that person.’ One of the men in the class repeated, incredulous, half-laughing, ‘So you’re saying you can’t enjoy, like, a vacation, without someone if you’re really in love with them?’ ‘Of course not,’ the professor replied. ‘Not completely. You recognize beauty, but beauty means less if they don’t witness it with you. Beauty is less. You see something sublime and your first thought is that they should be there with you. It’s not as good without them. They illuminate. They make everything more.’

(via skeletales)

Look around you: I mean it. Pause, for a moment and look around the room that you are in. I’m going to point out something so obvious that it tends to be forgotten. It’s this: that everything you can see, including the walls, was, at some point, imagined.

Neil Gaiman (via seabois)

I began to realize how important it was to be an enthusiast in life. If you are interested in something, no matter what it is, go at it full speed ahead. Embrace it with both arms, hug it, love it and above all become passionate about it. Lukewarm is no good.

Roald Dahl (via lexestrex)

I don’t want people to matter to me too much. Sometimes it hurts too much to think about them. Ones you love who don’t love you, ones who are dead or hate you, ones who you think about but never get to be with. I like people but when I get too close, it fucks me up and I can’t get things done.

Henry Rollins (via strangefatality)

the-masters-fallen-angel:

geobytes:

My grandma would always x out people in her yearbook and write “Deceased” when one of her high school classmates died. We often found it morbid. Grandma wanted to be the last one living. She wanted to win.

That’s not a yearbook.

That’s a hit list.

You keep telling me to be glad for what we had while we had it and that the brightest flame burns quickest. Which means you saw us as a candle and I saw us as the sun.

Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via shittyteenblog)