homos-and-kittens
sjanae:

kylesimmonsstache:

bastealinghearts:

Apparently kylesimmonsstache gets really excited about art.

LET’S FUCKIN TALK ABOUT ART

"REGULAR" ART

FANART

OH WHOA THAT’S A SWEET ASS MOTHERFUCKING CLASSICAL PAINTING BUT THEN FUCKIN LOOK AT THE DETAIL

JESUS CHRIST

TTHHHIIISSSSS IISSSSS AAAAA PAAAIINNNTTTIIINNNGGGG?!!?!!?!!!?!?!!! WHAT TO HECK????

FUCKIN SWEET ASS DAFT PUNK COLORED PENCILS HELLA

LOOK AT THIS AND TELL ME IT ISN’T FUCKIN RAD AS HELL

MOTHERFUCKING EMBROIDERY?!!!!!!?!?!!?!!?

THIS LOOKS LIKE A SCENE OUT OF A MOVIE

OH SWEET LOOK AT THIS SCULPTURE RIGHT

JUST WAIT A FUCKIN MINUTE HERE

THIS IS A DRAWING MADE TO LOOK LIKE A SCULPTURE I CAN’T FUCKING

LOOK MORE SWEET ASS COLORED PENCIL DRAWINGS
NOW I’M ABOUT TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT MY BRO BERNINI OKAY JUST TRUST ME ON THIS

ALREADY GORGEOUS RIGHT

FUCKING LOOK AT THAT LOOK AT IT I’M FUCKING

HOW DOES MARBLE LOOK LIKE GOSSAMER FABRIC HOOOOOWWWW??!!!!?

I love this so much.

sjanae:

kylesimmonsstache:

bastealinghearts:

Apparently kylesimmonsstache gets really excited about art.

LET’S FUCKIN TALK ABOUT ART

image

"REGULAR" ART

image

FANART

image

OH WHOA THAT’S A SWEET ASS MOTHERFUCKING CLASSICAL PAINTING BUT THEN FUCKIN LOOK AT THE DETAIL

image

JESUS CHRIST

image

TTHHHIIISSSSS IISSSSS AAAAA PAAAIINNNTTTIIINNNGGGG?!!?!!?!!!?!?!!! WHAT TO HECK????

image

FUCKIN SWEET ASS DAFT PUNK COLORED PENCILS HELLA

image

LOOK AT THIS AND TELL ME IT ISN’T FUCKIN RAD AS HELL

image

MOTHERFUCKING EMBROIDERY?!!!!!!?!?!!?!!?

image

THIS LOOKS LIKE A SCENE OUT OF A MOVIE

image

OH SWEET LOOK AT THIS SCULPTURE RIGHT

image

JUST WAIT A FUCKIN MINUTE HERE

image

THIS IS A DRAWING MADE TO LOOK LIKE A SCULPTURE I CAN’T FUCKING

image

LOOK MORE SWEET ASS COLORED PENCIL DRAWINGS

NOW I’M ABOUT TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT MY BRO BERNINI OKAY JUST TRUST ME ON THIS

image

ALREADY GORGEOUS RIGHT

image

FUCKING LOOK AT THAT LOOK AT IT I’M FUCKING

image

HOW DOES MARBLE LOOK LIKE GOSSAMER FABRIC HOOOOOWWWW??!!!!?

I love this so much.

This Is For You

I wrote this for an English assignment and it still gives me the feels.

This is for you.

With your unpaid bills stacked a mile high.

With your composure,

Like a frail strand of string falling off your finger

Because you had to remind yourself to eat again.

You are crying out in an empty house,

“Why can’t I just depart already!”,

Because to you, your life is just a runway,

Death is the departure,

And your flight is temporarily delayed.

This is for you.

Wherever you are.

This is for the nights when you wonder

If you will be able to make it to the morning,

Alive.

And when you put that ice, cold blade against your wrist

Everything seems to make sense

Because a razor

Has ALWAYS

Been the softest touch you’ve ever known.

This is for the days you can’t differentiate

Between what’s streaming down your face

And what’s cooling in your cup,

Coffee or tears.

Remember,

The last time you felt alive?

It was standing on that ledge on the roof

Looking down on the city lights

With the WHOOSH

And the frozen tears of December.

But, this is also for you.

Wherever you are.

This is for the nights when you are comforted to know

That you will be able to make it to the morning,

Alive.

And when you put that ice, cold blade into the garbage

Everything will finally make sense

Because a razor

Has always

Been the most harmful touch you’ve ever known.

This is for the days you CAN differentiate

Between coffee and tears.

It’s coffee,

Two creams, no sugar,

Just the way you like it.

And remember,

The last time you felt alive?

Yesterday, when you were standing on the edge in the plane

And jumping down with your parachute

With the WHOOSH of falling at 190km/h

And the joyful tears for the beauty of the world.

Take the time to remember

How proud you make your Mother.

Remember the warmth of the sun’s embrace,

And remember the way

A smile feels.

Just remember whatever you need to remember

In order to appreciate

The life you were given.

And remember,

This is for you. 

~ c.debokx

backshelfpoet

The first time my brother brings home a razor blade, it is not for his weak and scraggly beard. I only learn this when I walk in on him in the bathtub, singing praises to his blood. He says his prayers and asks for silence, like this is Sunday mass, and after we will walk out and take off our shiny shoes.

The first time my brother brings home a rope, it is not to play cat’s cradle. He ties himself a noose and lassoes his neck. Here he is thirteen, coughing up apologies, trying to keep this in. That day, blue is no longer a beautiful color.

The first time my brother buys a gun, he is hungry for the beginning. He flashes a fake ID and does not let the shopkeep know that he is just sixteen, thinking about biting down on the barrel. Yes, he wants bullets in his brittle bones.

The first time my brother takes his pills, it is not to get better. With doctor’s orders of only two a day, he swallows twelve one hour and fifteen the next, leaves the bottle empty on the floor. I hold back his hair when he tells me he doesn’t want to live anymore, and I do not say that 911 knows our family by name.

The first time my brother brings home a boy, I know this is the one that will not leave him with scars. I walk in on them kissing in the kitchen, hands slow and soft, away from all the knives and glass. My brother does not choke on his apologies anymore, but lets his lover eat them from his mouth.

I lock the door. I think of Spring.

My Brother’s Boy | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

A: Say something.

C: I did.

A: When?

C: Just now.

A: That didn’t count. Say something.

C: Nice weather we’re having.

A: *sighs* yea, it is.

C: …

A: …

C: There, does that make you happy?

A: Does what make me happy?

C: I commented on the weather. Does that make you happy?

A: Not really.

C: Well I said something. That’s what you wanted, no?

A: No.

C: Then what do you want?

A: I want you to say something!

C: We’re having a conversation right?

A: Something you mean. Say something you mean.

C: Well. I don’t know…

A: Please.

C: Are you sure?

A: Yes.

C: I don’t think this is going to work out.

A: What?

C: I don’t love you anymore.