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constantly sad 24/7 

(via jrusalem)


When you fuck something up first thing in the morning


(via gzer0x)

The truth is, I feel beyond sad. I feel empty. Numb.  Elizabeth Scott, Love You Hate You Miss You (via feellng)

(via jrusalem)

(via jrusalem)


Lucifer (Morningstar)

A wax sculpture depicting the devil snared in a set of power lines built by Paul Fryer. The sculpture is illuminated by the church’s stained glass windows.

It can be seen at The Holy Trinity Church in Marylebone, Westminster.

(via jrusalem)

Dark-Winged Angels: Roberto Ferri

(via daddyfuckedme)

Hell is
loving you in my sleep
and waking up alone.
— (via krystallballerrr)

(via jrusalem)

he is grass underfoot, you are

god but when his hands connect with your skin
you see constellations and how come one person
can taste so much like both morning cereal and
morning sex you are bright dawn around him,
you are firecracker, fire engine, you are
match and kindling, you are both
going down in history for causing
the highest heartbeats

and you are completely wrong for him because
he’s warm ocean wave and you’re the single tired eye
of a cigarette, he’s thick forest and you’re
desert planet

you build bricks around your body, you
beg him not come in but he is creeping ivy
and determined to wend and
he somehow always lets the sunlight in

you are anxiety’s grandchild, you are always
too-much too-much too-much, too loud, too
angry, too soft to turn away the hands of
lovers who only wanted your stain
on their lips
and all the time you hear
“you’d be fine if you just stopped trying
so hard at it” but careening out of control is
literally the only way you know how to live
so you constantly apologize for
just being terrible enough to

and lately you’ve been feeling that
unattached hatred of your own condition
you are big flashing self-destruct button

but he is storm-breaker, gift-wrap,
good earth and when you ask why he doesn’t
just leave why he doesn’t just spare himself the trouble
of your explosions and headrush-heat and
spur-of-the-moment words you spit
and he takes your hand and promises

you are not burdensome. you are only
worth it.

Antimony: Part 2/9 in a series //  r.i.d