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silentwhispersintheforest
Silent Whispers in the Forest
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hoshomccreesh
HOSHO MCCREESH
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is this blog stupid? yes. but which one of us is following it?
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There’s something so inherently mystical about swimming to the bottom of a pool to retrieve something. Just gracefully swooping down with a purpose and puttering to the quiet bottom. I mean, yeah, I’m probably retreaving a lost toe ring or one of those soggy water ball things, but damn if I don’t feel like a mermaid princess searching for hidden treasure.
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Video
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can we just talk about this video… it’s soft erotica but you don’t see Laura touching girls, treating them as objects, making them kiss, basically she doesn’t do anything male singers usually do in their vids with a lot of girls.
it’s just a neon butch fantasy,,, the epitome of I Can’t Think Straight,,, a good content
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“I like art, and by art I mean music, poetry, sex, paintings, the human body, literature.. All of this is art to me.”
— unknown / anonymous | @wnq-unknown
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“I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words.”
— Unknown | @wnq-unknown
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“We often want it so badly that we ruin it before it begins. Overthinking. Fantasizing. Imagining. Expecting. Worrying. Doubting. Just let it naturally evolve.”
—
unknown
today’s mantra
(via astound)
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I don't want to have sex, I tell myself. Exhausted, tired. Done with the day.
She arrives. The drive is like coffee in the middle of the night. Warm, hits the spot. But again it's the middle of the night.
We get ready for the covers. The bed is immediately promising. I am folded in sheets of heaven. Nothing can touch me.
Then that thing happens. A little push, a little shove. We are one. All her odds ends ins and outs are reciprocated by my own. All voids left not so empty. We are one.
This is how it happens. And it does not feel like sex. It feels like home, like completion. Again we are one. And we do it as if our whole life depended on it.
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