(Source: sweatercatz, via wanderingdesi)

Reblog this if you truly enjoy giving oral sex

bubble-fvck:

 

(Source: lesexylove, via smilinggoddess)

"At what point do you take girls out of school altogether because boys can’t handle it?"

— Parent of a female teen whose school banned leggings (via yball)

(Source: meetingsinthedesert, via youmakegandhicry)

alilfallofrain:

raggedyanndy:

thispleasesmorbo:

spellboundsama:

THAT IS GORGEOUS

heterochromia is one of the coolest aesthetics the human body can muster

a very groovy mutation

Thank you, Charles Xavier.

(Source: poyzn, via firefly-tonight)

femalefernando:

thewhole-shebang:

j-aub:

#BringAlexHome

I actually know this girl, this is crazy.To know that something like this could happen to a person you know is scary and heartbreaking.
IF YOU LIVE IN THE CENTRAL FLORIDA AREA PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR ALEX.
She needs to be brought home safely.

My poor cousin :/ It’s sad when someone you grew up with and knew is missing. We don’t know where she is and we’re hoping she is safe so please look out for her and go visit
www.bringalexhomesafe.com
to help donate and raise awareness. We won’t give up until you’re found and home safe and sound in peace. We love you Alex.

femalefernando:

thewhole-shebang:

j-aub:

#BringAlexHome

I actually know this girl, this is crazy.
To know that something like this could happen to a person you know is scary and heartbreaking.

IF YOU LIVE IN THE CENTRAL FLORIDA AREA PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR ALEX.

She needs to be brought home safely.

My poor cousin :/ It’s sad when someone you grew up with and knew is missing. We don’t know where she is and we’re hoping she is safe so please look out for her and go visit
www.bringalexhomesafe.com
to help donate and raise awareness. We won’t give up until you’re found and home safe and sound in peace. We love you Alex.

(via bakethatlinguist)

eziocauthon89:

graveyawn:

selva:

//cats & boxes

are you fuckin kiddin me

"If I fits, I sits" applies to all cats

(Source: dope-pope, via books-booksandmorebooks)

"Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme, it just has to touch someone where your hands couldn’t."

— Rudy Akbarian  (via jabwit)

(Source: obeythesquid, via the-ephemeral-poet-society)

"

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

"

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via awelltraveledwoman)

I have always loved this poem so very much.

Not everything is lost

(via dancinginthesetrees)

(Source: oliviacirce, via shamelessly-living)

"We experience the same things over and over again in different ways. That boy with the hurricane heart?—You’ll meet him again, but this time he’ll have different eyes. This time he’ll tell you he’s staying and he’ll mean it."

Shelby Asquith, Hurricane Hearts & Leftover Parts (via exahele)

(via exahele)

kohthefacedealer:

whitewhoreneedsmoreblackcocks:

ultrafacts:

Coolest movie theaters from around the world.

Want more posts like this? Follow Ultrafacts!

Now on my “bucket list” to visit each theater and enjoy a movie night there.

Not to detract from this post but are we just gonna ignore that url

(Source: ultrafacts, via books-booksandmorebooks)

"

I want your Monday morning
sleep soaked eyes
dream drenched voice,
lazy bones
‘five more minutes please babe.’

I want your Tuesday afternoon
coffee break,
glasses off, laughter on
‘just hold me for a while
it’s been a hard day.’

I want your Wednesday evening
fingers through hair
teeth nibbling nails
neck craning, eye glazing
‘this paperwork never ends’

I want your Thursday night
drinks for two
bones unbind
muscles let loose
flats, slacks,
‘just me and you’

I want your finally Friday
stretch soul smile,
sun sipping light
from the glaciers in your eyes
fingers unfurl, hand extends
‘c’mon babe, lets go wild’

I want your weekend.
your movie marathon Saturday
reading by the fireplace
kissing in the blankets
want your Sunday morning
orange juice and pancakes
white sheets, tender skin
hair like the Fourth of July
‘let’s not get out of bed today.’

I want your ordinary
and your stress, rest, release
I want your bad day and that terrible night
I want you drunk in my arms
forgetting the place but never my name
I want your lazy and your lonely
and your fist full of fight
I want you everyday
in every way
for the rest of my life.

"

— On Both Knees | alfaazkibarsaaat (via halluzinogen)

(via birthmark-poetry)

"My dreams turn my reality into a night mare. I’m not enough, he’s not enough, its never enough."

From Anonymous (via rupikaur)