Here we go again

Yeilha. 21. GA. cats. frenchfries. outdoors.

One day I just woke up and realized that I can’t touch yesterday. So why the heck was I letting it touch me?

—Steve Maraboli (via versteur)

(Source: psych-facts, via motits)

I often repeat repeat myself,
I often repeat repeat.
I don’t don’t know why know why,
I simply know that I I I
am am inclined to say to say
a lot a lot this way this way-
I often repeat repeat myself,
I often repeat repeat.

I often repeat repeat myself,
I often repeat repeat.
My mom my mom gets mad gets mad,
it irritates my dad my dad,
it drives them up a tree a tree,
that’s what they tell they tell me me-
I often repeat repeat myself,
I often repeat repeat.

I often repeat repeat myself,
I often repeat repeat.
It gets me in a jam a jam,
but that’s the way I am I am,
in fact I think it’s neat it’s neat
to to to to repeat repeat-
I often repeat repeat myself,
I often repeat repeat.

—Jack Prelutsky, A Pizza the Size of the Sun (via observando)

(via oracularsspectacular)

There are questions that you don’t ask because you’re afraid of the answers to them.

—Agatha Christie, The Moving Finger (via larmoyante)

(via oracularsspectacular)

Fuck You Poem #45

Fuck you in slang and conventional English.
Fuck you in lost and neglected lingoes.
Fuck you hungry and sated; faded, pock marked, and defaced.
Fuck you with orange rind, fennel and anchovy paste.
Fuck you with rosemary and thyme, and fried green olives on the side.
Fuck you humidly and icily.
Fuck you farsightedly and blindly.
Fuck you nude and draped in stolen finery.

Fuck you while cells divide wildly and birds trill.
Thank you for barring me from his bedside while he was ill.
Fuck you puce and chartreuse.
Fuck you postmodern and prehistoric.
Fuck you under the influence of opiun, codeine, laudanum, and paregoric.
Fuck every real and imagined country you fancied yourself princess of.
Fuck you on feast days and fast days, below and above.
Fuck you sleepless and shaking for nineteen nights running.
Fuck you ugly and fuck you stunning.

Fuck you shipwrecked on the barren island of your bed.
Fuck you marching in lockstep in the ranks of the dead.
Fuck you at low and high tide.
And fuck you astride
anyone who has the bad luck to fuck you, in dank hallways,
bathrooms, or kitchens.
Fuck you in gasps and whispered benedictions.

And fuck these curses, however heartfelt and true,
that bind me, till I forgive you, to you.

—Amy Gerstler (via observando)

(via oracularsspectacular)

If you don’t get excited when you’re about to kiss someone then you probably shouldn’t be kissing them. It should get you riled up inside and should not be mediocre.

—(via l-yps)

(Source: ridiculouslyproper, via jordiidenison)