(Source: unffound, via bullshitartist)

Vincent van Gogh, Plain Near Auvers, 1890

Vincent van GoghPlain Near Auvers, 1890

(Source: tamburina)


Is there an art in the loss of words? I know right now I am thinking, and this is done in the shape of Times New Roman typography — which is particularly unfortunate. But I have no words. I borrow other human thoughts with their breezy dictation because I am unable to grind out even a proper preposition. 

What am I to tell you?

(Source: ultrapoison, via snowce)

(Source: gifmovie, via dreamdeath)


The male penetrates the female and leaves. Coitus is brief and perfunctory. For the female, all there is to do now is wait and wait.

(Source: 5545no, via bloodyunbowed)

(via valambear)