Blue, Through Kaye Donachie’s Reminiscent Paintings.

i sometimes forget that this is everyone’s first time on earth too. like. this is my first time seeing a butterfly this color. but its that little girl’s first time seeing any butterfly, ever. and i accidentally left a bag of groceries at the store after paying and now i’m cursing under my breath and it’s like. there a thousand other people out there who did that today too. and a thousand more from yesterday. and. like. we’re not actually alone. and we’re not actually failing. at least not in a way that a few billion people haven’t before you

My brother never touches his cricket bat with his feet. It will anger the gods within it, he says. The goalkeeper of my football team kisses the goalpost before the beginning of a match, a silent prayer to the deity within. My sister never puts her paintbrushes on the floor and my father holds his stethoscope with unmatched devotion. You see, the gods are what you want them to be, where you want them to be. In your mother’s lap, in your best friend’s hug, in the coffee you are almost addicted to, in the equipments of the gym you love working out in or in the books you bought but will never read. The gods are wherever you want them to be. The gods are wherever you need them to be.

love & friendship - collected writings from side wounds and other poems

home is the first grave

@filmnoirsbian x (from @willemdafoegf 's post // catherine lacey // chen chen // silas denver melvin // aloha from hell, richard kadrey // courtney love prays to oregon // @heavensghost // st. lucy’s home for girl’s raised by wolves // x // taylor swift’s “my tears ricochet” // this post @ceemetery

buy me a coffee

Begging God to fix you!

(And other tales about religious trauma)

duuude you have GOT to get online everybody is just fucking hitting each other

I have chanted Maa Durga’s name with the same love and reverence as I have made Dua to Allah and bowed before Waheguru. I worship the divine, not the name

Patwo ki haveli (Jaisalmer)🪞✨

I love when the sky is bisexual like yes

The best of this life is trapped in the fabrics of my friends' couches, in my mothers sheets, in my childhood bedrooms curtains, and in every stitch sewn in my lovers shirts