gavinscreamingmichaelyelling:

time-is-a-many-splendored-thing:

douglasmurphy:

rainbowcoffin:

c-h-0-w:

nightwife:

Always reblog

Woah

well he really should have worn more protective clothing if he didn’t want that to happensounds to me like he was asking for it

Are we really sure he was actually shot and decapitated? Idk, sounds like something he would’ve made up. Guys make false decapitation accusations all the time, you know. 

If he didn’t want to be decapitated, he shouldn’t have worn a shirt that showed off his neck

I mean, not all woman decapitate people. I’m not like that.

gavinscreamingmichaelyelling:

time-is-a-many-splendored-thing:

douglasmurphy:

rainbowcoffin:

c-h-0-w:

nightwife:

Always reblog

Woah

well he really should have worn more protective clothing if he didn’t want that to happen
sounds to me like he was asking for it

Are we really sure he was actually shot and decapitated? Idk, sounds like something he would’ve made up. Guys make false decapitation accusations all the time, you know. 

If he didn’t want to be decapitated, he shouldn’t have worn a shirt that showed off his neck

I mean, not all woman decapitate people. I’m not like that.

I’ve never been one to
send short text messages.

I can’t seem to understand
how someone can mean to
say “I saw the stars trying
to escape from underneath
your skin and I think I have
been waiting all my life to
find a body with entrance
wounds like mine so that I
wouldn’t have to hide them
anymore” and type out,
“nice seeing you 2day”.

I’ve never been one to
bind in my heart.

It reaches out toward
hands like lips to skin and
I cannot help but let its
rhythm walk for me on days
when I cannot lift my feet
on my own. I can’t seem to
understand how someone
could put want into a two
sentence text message.

I’ve never been one to
forget moments of closeness.

My want looks nothing
like “r u wet” and does not
end with “did u cum”, it is
full and breathless, it
quakes against thoughts
of the wrong people and
falls asleep underneath
stars with boys it wishes
it could crawl inside of.

I’ve never been one to
trust the good things.

My text messages will forever
read like shitty novels with
too much repetition and
a hell of a lot of smiley faces,
and there’s no reason they
shouldn’t. My palms will
reach for yours in the dark
and hope to find more than
skin; I will tell you when
my mind wanders into your
chest and falls asleep
hoping for a home there.

I’ve never been one to
send short text messages.

r u awake?, Emma Bleker (via stolenwine)