smoke on and another

Addiction is tricky.

For example: A man who quit smoking for 11 years stood in an elevator with another man smoking a cigarette. He gave in.

What I’m trying to say is I think I love you again.

Did you know? If you catch a falling maple leaf, you’ll fall in love with the person you’re walking with.


Super Saturday Night Concert at Club Nomadic in Houston, Texas

smoke in the snow

she asks me where i’m going
it’s three in the morning and
out the window it’s snowing

i just need to smoke because
i just woke up with dried tears
from another nightmare again

just give me a moment i want to
feel the snow in my face until my
mind clears and before you know
it i’ll be right here again

my dear you know how much i care
and don’t worry about what i fear
when i hide tears i told you that
in a moment i’ll be right here

sometimes i feel like fuck the world
unwind but my mind’s stuck in a whirl
pondering if i’m really in love with this girl
pull her back in my arms holding her soul
with the cold on my skin i’m soaking her warmth
stroking her hair, skin so soft and delicate and yet
so sharp and intelligent, smart and feminine and
we’re more than just friends with benefits –

but i don’t want to set a precedent i just want to
let our resonance be our element as evidenced by
our experience that you’re my medicine and you
can be my everything it’s just my past commitments
have lead to detriment and that’s why i’m hesitant
even though you’re excellent

psychic: *reads my mind*

my mind: i’ve gotta tELL you life without you has been hard HARD? has been bad BAD?has been ROUGH kINKY and I miss tALKING about life and other stuff veryYYY specific Shut Up I like my parents Who sAYS THAT? I lOVE my parents But each day’s another fight if I stop smoking drugs then everything might be alright Smoking dRUGS… Just fix it!!!

psychic: what the fuck


two soft boyfriends, two colors.

but honestly though. just think about how this is the day after their very first kiss. literally. the. next. day?? and how??soft??are??they?? like they just kissed for the first time the night before, and here they are, laying in each others arms, smoking, kissing, laughing, opening up to one another, isak getting super passionate and almost too excited when talking about parallel universes, laughing nervously when realising it himself, but even completely ADORING him for it and falling deeper and deeper in love even though this whole idea scares him. and even being like can i stay here forever and isak saying you can like i literally never want to leave this room again lets just lay here and kiss and share stories until we’re old and grey wowww they fell for each other so fast so hard

It puzzles me when people cite LOTR as the standard of “simple” or “predictable” or “black and white” fantasy. Because in my copy, the hero fails. Frodo chooses the Ring, and it’s only Gollum’s own desperation for it that inadvertently saves the day. The fate of the world, this whole blood-soaked war, all the millennia-old machinations of elves and gods, comes down to two addicts squabbling over their Precious, and that is precisely and powerfully Tolkien’s point. 

And then the hero goes home, and finds home a smoking desolation, his neighbors turned on one another, that secondary villain no one finished off having destroyed Frodo’s last oasis not even out of evil so much as spite, and then that villain dies pointlessly, and then his killer dies pointlessly. The hero is left not with a cathartic homecoming, the story come full circle in another party; he is left to pick up the pieces of what was and what shall never be again. 

And it’s not enough. The hero cannot heal, and so departs for the fabled western shores in what remains a blunt and bracing metaphor for death (especially given his aged companions). When Sam tells his family, “Well, I’m back” at the very end, it is an earned triumph, but the very fact that someone making it back qualifies as a triumph tells you what kind of story this is: one that is too honest to allow its characters to claim a clean victory over entropy, let alone evil. 

“I can’t recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. I’m naked in the dark. There’s nothing–no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I can see him with my waking eyes.”

So where’s this silly shallow fever-dream I’ve heard so much about? It sounds like a much lesser story than the one that actually exists.


BUFFYVERSE + Aesthetic: Spike (for anon & iwanttoseehowitends)