♔ -- Making themes has always been incredibly relaxing and just soothing for me, however over the years there have been many incidents where people have blatantly taken my coding and tweaked/claimed it as their own. I will always keep my themes up and continue creating more so long as I'm on here, but please, please respect the credit where it is due!
♔ -- You may edit the layouts I've made in any way you would like. All I ask is that the credit stays right where I have put it, unless clearly shown elsewhere! To continue onto my themes, simply hit the 'forgive' link below!
♔ -- Please note: I no longer answer any theme questions. I will be posting a theme FAQ page which I will add to frequently, but until it is up please refrain from asking them. My apologies. Of course, if there are any serious issues feel free to contact me on my main blog.
( I don’t know what it is about this piece, but it’s been one of the most heart shattering things I’ve ever read for years now. Every so often, usually late at night, I’ll think of the single line from it; ‘We were in the golden room where everyone finally gets what they want.’ I can’t shake it. I feel like it literally lives scripted on every single one of my ribs in the tiniest of letters and reading through it gives me the chills. I don’t even know how I feel altogether when I find it again, but I felt the need to share it, and I’m sure I will share it plenty more times until it exhausts you like it’s exhausted itself into me. It’s destructive and it hurts, it’s haunting but it’s fucking beautiful and there is no ridding of it. Ever. )
Snow and Dirty Rain
by Richard Siken
Close your eyes. A lover is standing too close
to focus on. Leave me blurry and fall toward me
with your entire body. Lie under the covers, pretending
to sleep, while I’m in the other room. Imagine
my legs crossed, my hair combed, the shine of my boots
in the slatted light. I’m thinking My plant, his chair,
the ashtray that we bought together. I’m thinking This is where
we live. When we were little we made houses out of
cardboard boxes. We can do anything. It’s not because
our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we
struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring
your friends. It’s a potluck, I’m making pork chops, I’m making
those long noodles you love so much. My dragonfly,
my black-eyed fire, the knives in the kitchen are singing
for blood, but we are the crossroads, my little outlaw,
and this is the map of my heart, the landscape
after cruelty which is, of course, a garden, which is
a tenderness, which is a room, a lover saying Hold me
tight, it’s getting cold. We have not touched the stars,
nor are we forgiven, which brings us back
to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes,
not from the absence of violence, but despite
the abundance of it. The lawn drowned, the sky on fire,
the gold light falling backward through the glass
of every room. I’ll give you my heart to make a place
for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger.
Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars
for you? That I would take you there? The splash
of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube? We’ve read
the back of the book, we know what’s going to happen.
The fields burned, the land destroyed, the lovers left
broken in the brown dirt. And then’s it’s gone.
Makes you sad. All your friends are gone. Goodbye
Goodbye. No more tears. I would like to meet you all
in Heaven. But there’s a litany of dreams that happens
somewhere in the middle. Moonlight spilling
on the bathroom floor. A page of the book where we
transcend the story of our lives, past the taco stands
and record stores. Moonlight making crosses
on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.
We have been very brave, we have wanted to know
the worst, wanted the curtain to be lifted from our eyes.
This dream going on with all of us in it. Penciling in
the bighearted slob. Penciling in his outstrechted arms.
Our father who art in Heaven. Our father who art buried
in the yard. Someone is digging your grave right now.
Someone is drawing a bath to wash you clean, he said,
so think of the wind, so happy, so warm. It’s a fairy tale,
the story underneath the story, sliding down the polished
halls, lightning here and gone. We make these
ridiculous idols so we can to what’s behind them,
but what happens after we get up the ladder?
Do we simply stare at what’s horrible and forgive it?
Here is the river, and here is the box, and here are
the monsters we put in the box to test our strength
against. Here is the cake, and here is the fork, and here’s
the desire to put it inside us, and then the question
behind every question: What happens next?
The way you slam your body into mine reminds me
I’m alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling,
and they’re only a few steps behind you, finding
the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren’t
stitched up quite right, the place they could almost
slip right into through if the skin wasn’t trying to
keep them out, to keep them here, on the other side
of the theater where the curtain keeps rising.
I crawled out the window and ran into the woods.
I had to make up all the words myself. The way
they taste, the wy they sound in the air. I passed
through the narrow gate, stumbled in, stumbled
around for a while, and stumbled back out. I made
this place for you. A place for to love me.
If this isn’t a kingdom then I don’t know what is.
So how would you catalog it? Dawn in the fields?
Snow and dirty rain? Light brought in in buckets?
I was trying to describe the kingdom, but the letters
kept smudging as I wrote them: the hunter’s heart,
the hunter’s mouth, the trees and the trees and the
space between the trees, swimming in gold. The words
frozen. The creatures frozen. The plum sauce
leaking out of the bag. Explaining will get us nowhere.
I was away, I don’t know where, lying on the floor,
pretending I was dead. I wanted to hurt you
but the victory is that I could not stomach it. We have
swallowed him up, they said. It’s beautiful. It really is.
I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room
where everyone finally gets what they want.
You said Tell me about your books, your visions made
of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is
the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you
there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar
cube… We were in the gold room where everyone
finally gets what they want, so I said What do you
want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me. Here I am
leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome
burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack,
my silent night, just mash your lips against me.
We are all going forward. None of us are going back.
can we just
lovies what are your favorite perfumes? I want to buy myself a good one but I feel like there’s so many delicious ones I don’t know about. GUIDE ME
i may or may not have splurged with my tax return and bought a 2 big tv for my bedroom and
my mom just walked in and asked “how is jensen”
and he is clear and beautiful and i will swoon until i die
i am so understood by my mother
whenever my mom loses anything she thinks i took it and gets all sassy and then finds it five minutes later
check ur shit before u wreck ur shit, ma
I haven’t seen the previews for it! What’s it about?
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TO ALL MY LITTLE LOVE BUGS.
Friendly reminder that you don’t need a boy/girl to indulge in all of your favorite sweets and treat yourself today.
so where is the crossroads demon i want my own dean winchester pls and thank u
becoming a social recluse 101
most of the time even the night isn’t as dark as I want it to be