How we make for a perfect match. You know when to push, and I know when to pull. You think you know when something hurts and I show you that there is always more. I trust you'll never break my heart, but on occasion I don't know if I trust myself not to cut yours out. Curious wonder, to look upon the thing that makes us feel. Or should I cut from you your brain, take it right out of your head and read your every thought of me, watch back scenes with lovers from before, did it look like this? What are you really thinking in your last moments awake? or when my knife is pressed sharp into your throat. All I know is each time I hurt you, I love you more. Weather it is you or I held with rope. I am safe and you are mine.

H O T E L Explain me this; why only at the edge of your hunting blade, when death could be oh so very quickly upon me, do I feel most alive? ..It is the most curious thing, to look so hard for yourself, while trying so hard to loose yourself all in what seems the very same breath, against my neck i feel you draw yours, sharp and cold, the knife seems like an extension of us, your cutting, our hearts not severed but held together tighter, makes me think of the black rope around my wrists, the reality of your control comes flooding back though every cell in my body, you made yours. Every time baptised as a silk sheet of red, spills out pooling into bright white pillow cases, never quite the same. As I feel when I see a portrait of myself burned in crimson into the bed sheets, and by the look in your eye, you wont either, be the same again.

My insides could fall right out of my mouth, they quite often do. This person now, is too much. To intense, feels to much. Needy and weak. The person before was never enough, never gave nor accepted the love handed to me. And now I feel it myself,deep within my soul, and it compels me to let it out. I don't want to hide my heart, I hid my true face for too long. Now my heart is free to sing, should I cage it once more ? Should I speak not of how she lights up my world, makes me want to work on myself, how my best friend lives inside her heart. A safe space I only want her to feel the security of too. I doubt myself, I have nothing to give. All accept for love, and I have so much of that.

i wish there was more talk on tumblr about hypersexuality as a response to trauma, tbh. i see a lot of talk about asexuality and sex-repulsion due to trauma, but i rarely see people talk about the opposite. idk, its a difficult subject i suppose

Fight Club (1999)

Criatura punk viajera - Traveller Punk creature

I'll lose my head to her pretty face.

I can feel our fears running around between us, making art. Our demons they play well together, our two hearts could dance so freely if we let them. But can we take that chance again. Souls will catch fire. But only for a moment. And Then comes the bitter end.

Beetlejuice, 1988.

If I plant a seed in soil and name it, you, will we grow towards the sun.

Punx are cute