Beyonce showed up to the Global Citizen Festival unexpectedly. I was so overwhelmed that I cried.

Flash Flood


When it rains so much

But so little of it drains

And specks and spots

Line the window panes

The brightest blue sky

Is consumed by grey

And the streets of the city

Become Manhattan Bay

taracynara:

doctordonna10:

qthewetsprocket:

dixie-chicken:

but guys, you realize Morgan Freeman had to read those lines

…without laughing.

LOOK AT THE GUY HOLDING THE MICROPHONE

This post doesn’t show up on my dash enough.

(Source: littlechinesedoll, via cherishkay)


gurt-squirt:

sounds like some serious final boss music

(Source: chongthenomad, via 100percentfilth)


Protester at N.Y.U.’s Weinstein Hall demonstration for the rights of gay people on campus photographed by Diana Davies, 1970 (via)

Protester at N.Y.U.’s Weinstein Hall demonstration for the rights of gay people on campus photographed by Diana Davies, 1970 (via)

(Source: vintagegal, via petalsofblazon)

Themes in Fake


I almost believed

They saw though my fakeness and

They loved the real me

 —

Though their whole lives are

Curated for the public

They’re still photoshopped

 —

It’s almost funny.

I’m so good at faking it

I’m fooling myself

Feeling fake is when

I don’t remember who I

Am supposed to be

 —

And the award for

Most Insincere Performance

Of Friendship goes to…

 —

I am so tired

Of trying to make myself

Hide in the shadows

 —

Girl, fake that smile.

Don’t you want to make it to

Reign another day?

 —

You, my dearest friend,

Better not be faking it.

I will call you out.

 —

You think you’re all that

But you do not even know

What perfection means

 —

Tell me what to do

No one wants to be let down

No one wants to cry

 —

Oh, yeah right girlfriend

On a scale of 1 to fake

You’re polyester

 —

You have the toolbox

You take a look at yourself

What things would you change?

Suspension Bridge


There is no other way to be suspended

Between the sky and the sea

That gives the feeling of steady structure

But also feels so free.

The Wheel Turns


Sometimes I feel like the center of a wheel

Where the spokes keep me up

And everything runs smoothly for a long time

Until one day, a spoke breaks off

To find another wheel

Then it isn’t too long before

All the spokes are gone

And I am left rolling on my own

Waiting to be picked up by another wheel

artmonia:

Butterflies Paintings by Victoria Horkan

(via garrielynn)