(Source: choucribechir)
(Source: creatingaquietmind, via thesixthborough)
Make love to me in Spanish.
Not with that other tongue.
I want you juntito a mi,
tender like the language
crooned to babies.
I want to be that
lullabied, mi bien
querido, that loved.
I want you inside
the mouth of my heart,
inside the harp of my wrists,
the sweet meat of the mango,
in the gold that dangles
from my ears and neck.
Say my name. Say it.
The way it’s supposed to be said.
I want to know that I knew you
even before I knew you.
(via perfectlysafepenguin)
LA is a bubble, one large iridescent bubble.. soap and ocean water. floating. at least it lets the planes out. & only the ears pop, never the bubble. after you leave a while you’ll miss it. although, you can really miss the worst things.. a cigarette, a doomed bus. easy tiger, i hold a deep affection for los angeles and it’s oppressive sunshine. moms is moving here this summer, my kid brother’s going to middle school. middle school. fuck, i’m getting old.. in los angeles.
(via perfectlysafepenguin)
(Source: 13neighbors, via goldkoi)
(via peachbone)
(via paula-valeria)
(via nevver)