February 2011
January 2011
“The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is...”
– Mark Twain (via quote-book)
High - Lisa Scinta
Let me in and let me touch you, I can be what you’re addicted to. Let me in and let me break you, I’ll be your heroin, I’ll bring you down. I’ll be your bad trip coming around. Drink me in, take me inside. Let me control you and I’ll blow your mind. I’ve got what you need, give me a try. Let me be your ride tonight. I’ll be your high. Let me in and let me...
what a bad one.
went out to smoke a HUGE. gigantic. pipe and left my keys inside.
what a fuckin brainiac i am. had to call my mom to open up.
grammas got a bag on her head. but don’t call her baghead.
I love the faint smell of smoke on clothes or hands.
The smell has always been something soothing for me. My mother used to work all night at the post office. At night when I was scared or poop-feeling, I’d grab one of her scarves and sleep with it. They always had a subtle smell of perfume and cigarettes. That’s the smell that lulled me to sleep night after night. It grounded me and...
“[Puff it. Pass it. Push it. Pedal it.]”
The nicest way to shut a girl up is with a kiss.
Hey bitch.
cozydaydreams:
I can finally stop shitting bricks.
Fuck you, po. fuck you.
i dont see why its necessary to get this twisted. but i do anyway
“i’m bad news”