A nineteen year old thought machine with voluntary insomnia, a need to travel, and a bad case of the "Rhyme-a-lots".
My organs glow in the dark.

sunflowers

Iron and Wine - Such great Heights 

(Source: hightidesss, via vagina-thumper)

Sarah got a little too excited with some paint at the Oakland Pride festival. #rainbowbruises (at Oakland Gay Pride)
My moms visited me in SF this weekend, and to say the least, we kept it pretty gangsta. (at Castro Muni Station)
For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.
— Virginia Woolf (via indicio)

(via paranoidpeach)

wandrlust:

Neutral Milk Hotel — Oh Comely

Oh comely, I will be with you when you lose your breath, Chasing the only meaningful memory you thought you had left.

(via siouxerz)

nemfrog:

Merin. 1926.
vartanm:

We are our mountains.

Postcards From Italy - Beirut
There were always golden rocks to throw
At those who, those who admit defeat too late
Those were our times, those were our times

(Source: play-listings, via loveyourchaos)

blackhistoryalbum:

BEST BUDS | 1950sLouis Armstrong & Josephine Baker

YESSS.
I wish I could do whatever I liked behind the curtain of “madness”. Then: I’d arrange flowers, all day long, I’d paint; pain, love and tenderness, I would laugh as much as I feel like at the stupidity of others, and they would all say: “Poor thing, she’s crazy!” (Above all, I would laugh at my own stupidity.) I would build my world which while I lived, would be in agreement with all the worlds. The day, or the hour, or the minute that I lived would be mine and everyone else’s — my madness would not be an escape from “reality”.
— Frida Kahlo, from The Diary Of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait (via violentwavesofemotion)

(via commovente)