Mr. Fox

I don't wanna be a witness to this life. I want to be charged and convicted.

Posted on 18 March, 2014
Reblogged from qbutch  Source jonbloom

"Nothing I accept about myself can be used against me to diminish me. I am who I am, doing what I came to do, acting upon you like a drug or a chisel to remind you of your me-ness, as I discover you in myself."

—  

Audre Lorde, Eye to Eye (via beautifulforsurvival)

Still.

(via beautifulforsurvival)

Posted on 8 March, 2014
Reblogged from qbutch  Source beautifulforsurvival

Posted on 8 March, 2014
Reblogged from qbutch  Source grawly

Posted on 24 January, 2014
Reblogged from patchworkofmeaninglessthings  Source xyvch

Posted on 24 January, 2014
Reblogged from midwestswag  Source tastefullyoffensive

Posted on 24 January, 2014
Reblogged from streetetiquette  Source libertyfairsfreedomhall

Someone has made fake London Underground signs, and whoever did it is a ruddy genius.

jakbowler:

http://imgur.com/a/lUWTG

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Posted on 21 January, 2014
Reblogged from prosign  Source jakwith0utthec

Posted on 5 January, 2014
Reblogged from qbutch  Source ultimatebeauties

ziggy-the-gengar:

I love how people have turned the idea of not being a racist, ableist, sexist, trans*phobic, queerphobic fucknut into the phrase “political correctness”.

Because it’s much easier to say “I don’t like all this PC stuff” than it is to say “I actually like my position at the top of the hierarchy and though I know that I’m only here because many people suffer every day, I don’t plan on changing it, because this is waaaay too comfortable.”

Posted on 2 December, 2013
Reblogged from ziggy-the-gengar  

Posted on 14 November, 2013
Reblogged from patchworkofmeaninglessthings  Source myskinnybones

andrewgibby:

I’m never gonna wait

that extra twenty minutes

to text you back,

and I’m never gonna play

hard to get

when I know your life

has been hard enough already.

When we all know everyone’s life

has been hard enough already

it’s hard to watch

the game we make of love,

like everyone’s playing checkers

with their scars,

saying checkmate

whenever they get out

without a broken heart.

Just to be clear

I don’t want to get out

without a broken heart.

I intend to leave this life

so shattered

there’s gonna have to be

a thousand separate heavens

for all of my flying parts.

Posted on 13 November, 2013
Reblogged from andrewgibby  

"Hallelujah to making everyone uncomfortable
To the terrible manners of truth…
Hallelujah to tact never winning our spines
To taking our power all the way back to that first glacier that had to learn how to swim
To not turning our heads from a single ugly truth…
May our good hearts forever be too loud to let the neighbors sleep."

—  Andrea Gibson - Etiquette Leash

Posted on 29 October, 2013

"Emergency Contact
It’s not that I think I am your type I think I’m the exact font you have been searching for your entire life I can tell by the way your fingers hover above the A key That’s me: Awkward So what?

I’ve been loving you eleven years
Eleven years standing outside your window
Throw down your hair
I’m talking about the hair you pulled from the drain when you were cleaning your tub
I want everything
You have ever tried to wash away
The first time you were teased in junior high
The last time you blushed from a compliment
Every fever that is not yet broken
It is true, I have never made a love potion that hasn’t blow up,
But your mouth is the sexist beaker
Bend me over your periodic table
Then try to tell me we don’t have chemistry

Of course
I am poly
As in polygraph machine
As in I can tell you are lying when you tell me you don’t want me
In a cheerleading outfit spelling only your name with pompoms
Woman
I will faithfully put anything on for you

Name the time period
Jazz age? I’ll wear a pocket watch beneath my flapper dress while fist fighting Hemingway for a seat beside you at the bullfight
I’ll grab your hand and we’ll run straight for the bull
What is love if it’s not running straight for the bull?
Then carrying him into an animal sanctuary in Massachusetts
Where he’ll forever be best friends with a pig named George

Love
Love is a downpour of shelter
I want to wrap you in blankets until you are so dry you’re wet
I want to come clean in our dirtiest bed
Fuck playing the field
Do you have any idea how wild I could grow in the flowerpot beside your desk?
Baby, all of your petals are welcome here
In every ounce of your drought I will never ask you to weed your fear

When I say I want all of you I mean that chair jammed under the doorknob
I am a master at holding my ear to the wall and knowing when the coast is clear
The coast is most clear when there are lovers making love in the lighthouse
Telling one truth is a years worth of lamp oil
I will tell you the truth until every ship has come home to harbor
I will tuck you in every night beneath the quilt of sails

I will hire a stubborn mechanic
Someone willing to lay on his back beneath a ton of steel
Have him whisper to every valve of your heavy heart
Nothing can be fixed
Everything can be healed
That’s why my gravel throat keeps calling through this canyon
That’s why I keep lighting this torch after so many years
I promise to be so careful with the bird’s nest in the chimney

Give me one night One date
I have plenty of patience to wait
But what I know of eventually is that it rarely arrives without an escort of spill your guts
You can have all of my pipe organs
You can make an opera of my throat
You told me years ago I should start writing the poems I am terrified to write
Well here you go

It’s not that I’m not terrified
You’re going to break my heart in half
But when you do I want to have written your name as my emergency contact
I want God to call you and say if the door frame that saves you from the earthquake is part of love’s ribcage
Then the falling roof of your fear is love’s lung pulling you closer towards the truce
That final truce where even your terror becomes an open field
Love, this is the place where the wounded started calling the wounds on their knees ‘strawberries’

I will meet you by the maple tree
That will be my jacket thrown across the mud puddle
Waiting to dry your pretty feet “

"

—  Andrea Gibson, “Emergency Contact”

Posted on 29 October, 2013
Reblogged from ohandreagibson  

Posted on 30 September, 2013
Reblogged from midwestswag  Source lanadelnigga

Posted on 29 September, 2013
Reblogged from getoutoftherecat  Source gifak-net


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