Teeth on a String and Clover Eyelashes.
She's pressing me gently with a hot steam iron,
or she slips her hand inside me as if I were a sock that needed mending. The thread she uses is like the trickle of my own blood, but the needle's sharpness is all her own.
"You will ruin your eyes, Henrietta, in such bad light," her mouth warns. And she's right! Never since the beginning of the world has there been so little light. Our winter afternoons have been known at times to last a hundred years.
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Why the hell are garlands becoming a thing?
I got more conscious of the kitchen window backyards’ seasons’ daily view, here morning snow-dropped window sill January 23, 1987, white roofed toolshed, bare branched trees of Heaven, fences & fire escapes visible snow-line, Times. - Allen Ginsberg
A Bit about Crows…

…If you are careful, it is easy to steal a baby crow from its nest without disturbing the others or apparently distressing its parents. You can then teach it to fly and come to you for food and affection…It will, after spending an over-indulged child hood with you , begin bringing its wild friends home for afternoon tea and parties and will eventually leave you to begin a new life with its own kind out in the bush. A good system whereby everyone lives happily ever after…
By R. Davidson
My sweet naughty little fuckbird, Here is another note to buy pretty drawers or stockings or garters. Buy whorish drawers, love, and be sure you sprinkle the legs of them with some nice sent and also discolour them just a little behind.
You seem anxious to know how I received your letter which you say is worse than mine. How is it worse than mine, love? Yes, it is worse in one part or two. I mean the part where you say what you will do with your tongue (I don’t mean sucking me off) and in that lovely word you write so big and underline, you little blackguard. It is thrilling to hear that word (and one or two others you have not written) on a girl’s lips. But I wish you spoke of yourself and not of me. Write me a long long letter , full of that and other things, about yourself, darling. You know now how to give me a cockstand. Tell me the smallest things about yourself so long as they are obscene and secret and filthy. Write nothing else. Let every sentence be full of dirty immodest words and sounds. They are all lovely to hear and to see on paper even but the dirtiest are the most beautiful.
The two parts of your body which do dirty things are the loveliest to me. I prefer your arse, darling, to your bubbies because it does such a dirty thing. I love your cunt not so much because it is the part I block but because it does another dirty thing. I could lie frigging all day looking at the divine word you wrote and at the thing you said you would do with your tongue. I wish I could hear your lips spluttering those heavenly exciting filthy words, see your mouth making dirty sounds and noises, feel your body wriggling under me, hear and smell the dirty fat girlish farts going pop pop out of your pretty bare girlish bum and fuck fuck fuck fuck my naughty little hot fuckbird’s cunt for ever.
James Joyce’s letter to his lover Nora (via ceedling)
i cant not reblog joyce loveletters
DIRTY FAT GIRLISH FARTS so visionary (via momumental)

Just for impact:

(via burgerrr)





