Hate her ~

Hate her ~

Guys this is my sister, in the middle.

How fucked up is this??

Guys this is my sister, in the middle.

How fucked up is this??

Cloud on my tongue
Tori Amos (969)


Tori Amos- “Cloud On My Tongue”

one of my favorites

play loud

“Bring them all here hard to hide a hundred girls in your hair. it won’t be fair if I hate her, if I ate her. you can go now. You’re already in there —- I’ll be wearing your tattoo. You’re already in there”

I saw this performed. I saw this performed, and I lost it.

Two new works if Sappho were uncovered not tOO long ago, but I’m still here waiting for the translation to be done.

I’m still so fucking pissed about it

He seems to me equal to the gods that man
whoever he is who opposite you
sits and listens close
to your sweet speaking

and lovely laughing — oh it
puts the heart in my chest on wings
for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking
is left in me

no: tongue breaks and thin
fire is racing under skin
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears

and cold sweat holds me and shaking
grips me all, greener than grass

I am dead, or little short of dying

— Sappho

I wanna be the thought that slips your mind
the thought that makes you come
to your senses

But I’m shy
so I’ll never tell you that
Instead I’ll say something like
“wanna hold hands sometime ?
wanna come over to my house and watch tv ?”
And I don’t have a tv
So you’d be left flipping the channels of me
my breath on your neck like perfect reception
I’d tell you things like how I know
all your lies and deceptions have just been commercials
before the real show
And I’m a moody Star
(Andrea, that is the cheesiest line you’ve ever written)
I’m a moody star

But if you said glow
I’d cut my soul into a million little pieces just to form constellations to light your way home
I’d hire little tiny gnomes
to play the parts of dick Cheney and George Bush
so you could squish ‘em between your toes and feed ‘em to your cat
I’d love you like that
All political and shit

Like the distance between my body and yours
is the same distance that stretches from shore to shore
from right to left
from rich to poor
and we could fuck our way to one brilliant communist union

And I know fuck is a bad word
but it sounds so good
Good like flipping off the preacher whenever he forgets that Eve was Adam’s teacher
‘Cause apples are fucking healthy, you patriarchial piece of shit

Back to you
Your eyes are so
I can’t remember if they are brown or blue
But you’re a really great dresser
I am too, but you are better
And I’m not looking for forever
I’m just looking for that one moment
when your collar bone phones my mother at home and thanks her for giving birth to my breath
When the tides of your chest rise and fall on my shore
And I swear I can hear the sound of every name I was ever given and every life I lived before
Singing arias from the vocal chords of your pores

And I’m more than sure
that you’re all wrong for me
but all right would mean we have a lot in common
and I’m not attracted to common things
I prefer we sing our tears
so we can save the water to drown our fears

And there’s something like an ocean
in the motion of your fingertips
when they sweep your hair from your eyes
and you stare into mine
like you know I’m not an angel
But I used to be

So I was thinking
maybe you’d wanna hold hands sometime
maybe you’d wanna come over to my house
and watch tv

— Slip Your Mind, by Andrea Gibson (via e-l-e-g-ance)

Andrea, you delightful woman


just let me slip into something more…. spaghetti.


just let me slip into something more…. spaghetti.

I’ll never talk about it at this level again but let me ask you. Why have I survived that kind of night, when other women didn’t?

How am I alive to tell you this tale when he was ready to slice me up? In the song I say it was ‘Me and a Gun’ but it wasn’t a gun. It was a knife he had. And the idea was to take me to his friends and cut me up, and he kept telling me that, for hours. And if he hadn’t needed more drugs I would have been just one more news report, where you see the parents grieving for their daughter.

And I was singing hymns, as I say in the song, because he told me to. I sang to stay alive. Yet I survived that torture, which left me urinating all over myself and left me paralysed for years. That’s what that night was all about, mutilation, more than violation through sex.
I really do feel as though I was psychologically mutilated that night and that now I’m trying to put the pieces back together again. Through love, not hatred. And through my music. My strength has been to open again, to life, and my victory is the fact that, despite it all, I kept alive my vulnerability
— Tori Amos

Yuna Zarai

Anonymous — do you know who the woman is in the gif you reblogged yesterday who is saying "yeah but i think it's a universal language. sex."

Omg lea seydoux!!!!!😍


Rachel Whitehurst / 87daysbefore: Favourite Youtubers (1/?)

"No Lorde did not invent fucking dark lipstick, okay? Jesus Christ." 

Holy shit my friend is hot

Wuthering Heights (2011)

Jesus Christ like it wasn’t the entire
Book, but it satiates my longing

Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!
Emily Brontë, from Wuthering Heights (via violentwavesofemotion)
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