enough about simon and garfunkel. THEY did explore each others bodies
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“She twirls it in her left hand, a small red merry-go-round. According to the white oval sticker, she holds apple #4016. I’ve read in some book or other of four thousand fifteen fruits she held before this one, each equally dizzied by the heat in the tips of her fingers. She twists the stem, pulls it like the pin of a grenade, and I just know somewhere someone is sitting alone on a porch, bruised, opened up to their wet white ribs, riddled by her teeth— lucky. With her right hand, she lifts the sticker from the skin. Now, the apple is more naked than any apple has been since two bodies first touched the leaves of ache in the garden. Maybe her apple is McIntosh, maybe Red Delicious. I only know it is the color of something I dreamed, some thing I gave to her after being away for ten thousand nights. The apple pulses like a red bird in her hand‚ she is setting the red bird free, but the red bird will not go, so she pulls it to her face as to tell it a secret. She bites, cleaving away a red wing. The red bird sings. Yes, she bites the apple and there is music— a branch breaking, a ship undone by the shore, a knife making love to a wound, the sweet scrape of a match lighting the lamp of her mouth. This blue world has never needed a woman to eat an apple so badly, to destroy an apple, to make the apple bone— and she does it. I watch her eat the apple, carve it to the core, and set it, wobbling, on the table— a broken bell I beg to wrap my red skin around until there is no apple, there is only this woman who is a city of apples, there is only me licking the juice from the streets of her palm. If there is a god of fruit or things devoured, and this is all it takes to be beautiful, then God, please, let her eat another apple tomorrow.”
— “I Watch Her Eat the Apple, Natalie Diaz, from When My Brother Was an Aztec
(via commovente)
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I am a violin maker learning to tattoo so here is a banana with the decoration from the Hellier Strad violin
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holy is the cunt that bears the bush
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this is my favorite thing that i’ve ever seen in a teen magazine
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This is still one of the craziest bits of My Chem fun facts to me by the way.
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the only reason why ten year old girls are destroying stupidly overpriced products at sephora to make “skincare smoothies” is because they aren’t being given access to a yard with a variety of mud, sticks, rocks, puddles, and old ceramic planters to make potions in. the children yearn for the apothecary
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i love walking around my house at night wearing a too small tshirt and underwear it makes me feel like the slutty girl who dies first in a horror movie
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goes to your family's barbeque and says some shit like "discursive" during a normal conversation and the family dog mauls me
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my idea of romance is mutual violent obsession
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