cursor credit
Be rough with me. Show me what's up, throw me up against the damn wall and claim what's yours.

"I’ve rhymed and written limericks
I’ve dirge’d and purged my soul
I’ve haiku’d and prosed
I’ve measured lines and counted notes
Penning salve for these weary bones
All in an attempt to explain clearly
This gale force wind of chemistry
That musters up inside of me whenever your body is near me
So I stopped writing
There is no greater poetry that I can conceive
Than these goose-bump applauses
Tingling up and down me
Not occasionally
But each and every time you touch me"
- T (via tiffanythill)

(via thedarkbloodofwolves)