internalisecarlo:

This apartment tour makes me so positive & peaceful!
(via AM)

And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via wordsnquotes)
There are two reasons why people don’t talk about things; either it doesn’t mean anything to them, or it means everything
Luna Adriana (via suspend)

(Source: silly-luv)

Sometimes it takes sadness to know happiness, noise to appreciate silence and absence to value presence.
TheDailyPositive.com (via thedailypozitive)
You are what you do, not what you say you’ll do.
TheDailyPositive.com (via thedailypozitive)

thesoutherly:

Victoria Carlson

have you considered that maybe i am not pleasant?

maybe i wear lipstick so that
you will see my pretty pink mouth
wrapping around a coffee cup lid
and be distracted enough not to notice
that i am intelligent and powerful;
a threat.

maybe i draw my brows into high arches
so you will look at my unimpressed skepticism
and overlook my spiteful glare
as a trick of my silly, girlish routine.

maybe i wear my heels so high and thin
so that i grasp your attention with the sway of my hips
as i listen to the click-clack-click against the floor
and know that if you should try to overpower me
i walk on sharpened knives.

maybe when i laugh at your worthless jokes
i am really baring my fangs
waiting patiently for the day
that i sink them into your neck.

i am not made of porcelain pleasantries;
you will find that these things are my armor
to keep you at a distance
so you do not step on me and shatter
my fragile control.

i am not a husk — i am not wilting.
i am turning my head
so that the fire blazing through my eyes
does not catch on the accelerant of your sweaty palms
and burn your bones to dust.

i am not your pretty girl;
i am a fury, a faerie, a phoenix —
a forest of werewolves and wendigos
that will carve out your chest
so that the next time i paint my pretty pink lips
i will taste the copper tang of your dying breaths.

R.K., I Am The Wolf Only Barely Contained (via sufferxthexagony)

This.

(via chopyourbreakfastonamirror)