Old Soul, New World

warning: devon is a highly addictive substance. please consult the Doctor before use

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This must be Thursday. I could never get the hang of Thursdays.
Arthur Dent, Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

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I didn’t need Facebook to remind me

Oh hey another birthday
I forget that you have one like the rest of us
You don’t age in my mind
You aren’t sad in my mind
You’re the dazzling smile
The bright eyes
The hand that brushed mine on purpose but didn’t always have the courage to take hold of me
How are you?
I hear stories
I know you need a hug
If I’m ever in town you can have one
I couldn’t offer this always
Before I couldn’t have been there for you without pain
It doesn’t hurt anymore to remember your birthday
Happy 19th
Everything will be ok

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When sex becomes a production or performance that is when it loses its value. Be mutual. Be loud. Be clumsy. Make noises, be quiet, and make a mess. Bite, scratch, push, pull, hold, thrust. Remove pressure from the moment. Love the moment. Embrace it. Enjoy your body; enjoy your partners’ body. Produce sweat, be natural, entice your senses, give into pleasure. Bump heads, miss when you kiss, laugh when it happens. Speak words, speak with your body, speak to their soul. Touch their skin, kiss their goose bumps, and play with their hair. Scream, beg, whimper, sigh, let your toes curl, lose yourself. Chase your breath; keep the lights on, watch their eyes when they explode. Forget worrying about extra skin, sizes of parts and things that are meaningless. Save the expectations, take each second as it comes. Smear your make up, mess up your hair, rid your masculinity, and lose your ego. Detonate together, collapse together, and melt into each other.
(via therosethieves)

(Source: onedirtydiamond, via this--too--shall--pass)