Stream of Consciousness
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i sit here, lie here, stand here, wake, ever sleeping, walking, dreading, wishing. I hope to know at least one soul, before i dying sigh, and my casket procedes across the knoll...i hope this ye, but do naught to pursue my wish, Instead i sleep, i dread,i sit...stagnant and miserable but with a heart overflowing with an indescribable collection of sentiments and loving expressions. Most of which i've never had the courage to share or the endurance to deliver. I am unsure and i am growing, but i will paint my pictures and hope the colors overflow and seep into your pores, staining your skin with the essence of me....which you will never be able to wash off....yet will nay tire of the tint. If you have ever felt so strongly say aye and i will follow you through the end of all,

This is my Blog, in it you will find me trying to avoid responsibility....enjoy.


out of 10 dentist agree.




Things relating to myself are HERE; my last fm is HERE; everything else i post is a collective of artworks that i find inspiring. hopefully you will too. g'day.
knowinng: henrietta harris Oh jebus i love this
DONT REMIND ME
…….but this is really cute
zinacolada: Re-watched and loved as much as the first time I saw it. I love movies that surprise me (well, I love surprises full stop!). I remember being fascinated by the premise and slightly put off but people kept recommending it so I saw it. So glad that I did. Add this to the list of movies that end with me being a blubbering blob. Highly recommended. Daw love this movie
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superseventies: Anjelica Huston by Bob Richardson for Vogue Paris, 1971.
23:19 Holden Caulfield: Hey I just met you
Holden Caulfield: and this is crazy
Holden Caulfield: but anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.
Holden Caulfield: so don't even call me, you're a phony
10:48
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Neutral Bling Hotel | King Of Jesus Walks, Pts 2 & 3
2headedsnake: cova.deviantart.com Return to Hades by Simon Noynay
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deadpaint: Jean-Léon Gérôme, The Cock Fight
littleworries: allthingstakenmerrily asked:your drawings are so lucidly beautiful, but mostly, i like your writing. is english your first language? your verbs are mixed up and your words come out in ways no one else`s do, but it has very, very good effect. It is not unusual for people to look at me and listen to me and to ask where I came from.  They are often sure I am from elsewhere, all foreign and odd. I was born in the UK, and  English is my first language, though I am not entirely sure of any of the rules.  Words fall out of us, see? And this is how they happen to fall from me.  Thank you for saying things. Anonymous asked:  help me. i am horrid and hollow and sad and anxious all the time. there is a pointy beast that pokes and prods at my self worth and kindess. it took up residence for no reason, a long time ago. do you have a beast? i can usually tell, and though yours is slightly different to mine, i feel like maybe you live with one. perhaps if we burried ourself in a pillow fort and didn’t come out for days, our beasts would fall in love and marry. then run away together…. we will be light as feathers then. Beastly beasts.  I’m not sure if we have them or are them.  I am in favour of hiding for a time, and letting the dust and the dread drift offffff out of our mouths and into the sea.  There is lightness to come, my dear.  Bound to come because if it doesn’t there is going to be some awful big yawn about us.  We are forever falling down the hole or scrabbledragging ourselves up and out of it.  My beast is not without love, and really I’d like it to be a happy one.  So yes, marry and be merry. Anonymous asked:  Today has been uneasy for me as well. Thrice the moon has come and gone—almost another, now—yet still my father is in ashes, and I cannot forget. The pain is tidal. Yet when I feel as though I may perchance drown beneath the darkness, I come to your blog. I see how you have crawled back up from where your demons have dragged you. And I remember that this, too, shall pass. So thank you for holding my hand for so very, very long. Should bits of him still linger, I think he would thank you too. There is not much to do or say.  There are some people here and they, you, are all real things.  Wet wet eyes and pink parts for the touching and tasting.  Just far away, is all.  If there is badness, it is ok to hold it close.  Not to smother it, you understand, but to take something sharp and snip and chip and scratch bits off it until it becomes a thing of use or beauty or just a lump or terrible love.   I do hope you are (all) ok.  Ah andrew, your poetic musings soothe and calm so quaintly.
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