goodfuckingsex
Slam poetry. Yelling. Angry. Waving my hands a lot. Specific point of view on things. Cynthia. Cyn-thi-a. Jesus died for our Cynthia’s. Jesus cried. Runaway bride. Julia Roberts. Julia rob-hurts. Cynthia. Mmmmm Cynthia, you’re dead. You are dead. Be boop beep you’re dead.
Schmidt, 22 Jump Street (via joshbgosh1)

I have never laughed so hard in a movie theater before

(via dirtyberd)
mala-educacion
And you tried to change, didn’t you? Closed your mouth more. Tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake… You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that. And if he wants to leave, then let him leave. You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love.
Warsan Shire, For Women Who Are Difficult To Love (via aurelle)
mala-educacion

imreallybad:

repeat after me: 

  • virginity is a social construct 
  • you don’t lose your virginity 
  • there’s nothing valuable or precious about virginity, it’s an imaginary concept 
  • virginity is inherently heterocentric 
  • your worth is not defined by whether or not you’ve had a dick inside you
  • what you define as sex is up to you, you get to decide how many people you’ve had sex with 
  • the end 
observando

Fuck You Poem #45

Fuck you in slang and conventional English.
Fuck you in lost and neglected lingoes.
Fuck you hungry and sated; faded, pock marked, and defaced.
Fuck you with orange rind, fennel and anchovy paste.
Fuck you with rosemary and thyme, and fried green olives on the side.
Fuck you humidly and icily.
Fuck you farsightedly and blindly.
Fuck you nude and draped in stolen finery.

Fuck you while cells divide wildly and birds trill.
Thank you for barring me from his bedside while he was ill.
Fuck you puce and chartreuse.
Fuck you postmodern and prehistoric.
Fuck you under the influence of opiun, codeine, laudanum, and paregoric.
Fuck every real and imagined country you fancied yourself princess of.
Fuck you on feast days and fast days, below and above.
Fuck you sleepless and shaking for nineteen nights running.
Fuck you ugly and fuck you stunning.

Fuck you shipwrecked on the barren island of your bed.
Fuck you marching in lockstep in the ranks of the dead.
Fuck you at low and high tide.
And fuck you astride
anyone who has the bad luck to fuck you, in dank hallways,
bathrooms, or kitchens.
Fuck you in gasps and whispered benedictions.

And fuck these curses, however heartfelt and true,
that bind me, till I forgive you, to you.

Amy Gerstler (via observando)