You know, it’s sad,”
She said,
“How Death is just
A fucking period
In the middle of
Our life’s worth
Of run-on sentences.
We could be
And in the next moment
Only attempting.
How fucked up is that?
That even our breath
Gets taken from us.
What do we have
Control over
In this world?”

“Well, we can choose
To be flowing,”
I said, treading lightly,
“That whatever may happen
To our lungs
Our fingers, toes,
Carpal bones,
Was always going to happen.
An acceptance,
Not a giving up.”

“What does that mean?”

“It isn’t breath
Being ripped
From our lungs.
We are born
With a secret
Expiration date.
We only have
Enough breath
To last us so long.
But live well enough
That people will still
Want a taste of you
Even after
You’ve expired.

Expiration - BM (via beardedmusing)

A fox has become the latest victims to the freezing temperatures on Scandinavia’s waters as it was found frozen solid in a lake in southern Sweden, 24 January 2014


Lana Del Rey


by Ashley Le Quereo

There’s no point to a guy yelling, “Hey sexy baby” at me out of the passenger window of a car as it speeds past. Even if I was into creepy misogynists and wanted to give him my number, I couldn’t. The car didn’t even slow down. But that’s okay, because he wasn’t actually hitting on me. The point wasn’t to proposition me or chat me up. The only point was to remind me, and all women, that our bodies are his to stare at, assess, comment on, even touch. “Hey sexy baby” is the first part of a sentence that finishes, “this is your daily message from the patriarchy, reminding you that your body is public property”.


You turn me on. Then I take you. Right there. Just like that.

Harder. Faster. Better.



nothing will fuck you up as much as the realization that there’s no real reason the alphabet needs to be in order




Lana Del Rey