I've bled my heart on enough pages to know the internet is just a never ending place to bleed



(Source: haringtonskits, via thefuuuucomics)


i have never seen this much attitude in animation.


i have never seen this much attitude in animation.

(Source: andreaspada, via naturalblkgirlsrock)


Brave New Voices - Day 1

(via locksandglasses)


me digging your grave

My first time on Tumblr, and this was the first gif. As soon as I saw it I knew I was already in too deep.



me digging your grave

My first time on Tumblr, and this was the first gif. As soon as I saw it I knew I was already in too deep.


(Source: napsmear, via sliiqmik)


Ive never been a fan of sharing

Not a portion for picking or a piece to part 

I like to keep whole all of the dispersion I have left

I keep quiet because words let out carvings of you that can never be molded back into the canvas

And those are simply arsenal to later cock back and shotgun blast me into less that what I am now

In these 20 years I have made good of walking straight with blurred vision and amputated limbs

Ive never pretended to be whole , just sure enough that the little I am can suffice through another day

My walls are triumphant

less oppressing than that of Berlin but neither side is safe for the graffiti of rebellion

I like my dismal slate free, in all ironic purposes

because these walls remind me of whipping posts and lynching branches

they smell of nazi gas chambers and burning flesh in midnight that no one cares to reconcile until morning

These smiles are simply the brake before a spine collapses from the tons of cotton dragged in a shift of cooked sun betting that it can stand longer than the black skin it berates

I am a child regurgitated at birth

thrown up and away in despair hoping that the fingertips didnt linger long enough to leave a nigger stain

In fact, I dont hate my heritage, rather embrace the walls it has taught me to uphold

To stand tall even when I am but a parcel of myself

To know that being half of me and trodding along like it is whole, may be merely enough to withstand the miles of dark nights into a godforsaken sunrise

Godforsaken simply because we worship a book that was stitched to our palms with slave master needles making sure every inch of their “truth” was embedded in our seams

I have seen true faith that never touched the lips to speak of a God that wouldnt look our way because we were brown paper skin dark

Witnessed real worship among scriptures of unordained ministers on street corners through hennessy bottles and unclean hands that have never touched a bible

I believe that glory comes from these walls that my life has taught me to uphold and being strong enough to break down each brick with my hands alone

I have yet to reach up to the sky in a falsified prayer truly meaning to tear down the blasphemy of these holyified walls 

And each day they block my light, but knowing in due time I will want my own self fulfilling glory enough to break it down 

The art of climbing

Days like today remind me that God still exists
In the twists and turn of mountain climbs
Beholding the beauty of a city beneath your feet
still knowing ur too far to reach the snow covered mountain tops which are just a step away from heaven
There extends a peace here
A calm tranquility that lets yu know the world is among yu yet its waiting for yu to make it yours
Come to these ranges to clear your mind
Throw your regrets away on the rigid rocks too hard to climb anyway
Every path isnt meant to be experienced so leave wat should be left and keep moving forward
But understand forward is just a technicality
Because to the man atop the hill all he dreams of is being leveled in the valley
While im winding these hills praying i make it to the top


Today my heart was heavy
And i cant decipher if its because ive stared death in the face one more time
Or because I was on the breathing end of it in a lifeless motion
Wishing i could be embalming fluid still
Listening to people whisper about how good I looked for the last time
Because they always compliment the last sight before the casket closes
I saw a generation fade to black on saturday
My great grandmother, a regal woman of sorts
She died with a smile on her face
A sign she had left this world completing all the things on her checklist
Knowing if it were me, i wouldnt be so lucky
Theyd have to joker paint a smile too fake to be ignored
But just menacing enuf that no one would dare to question
So between me and the 6 ft i stand above until my clock runs out
Lets just say i have a lot more checking off to do
3 generations post slave
Gertrude made an honest woman of herself
11 kids, though no one speaks of my papa being the only one with a different daddy
But we smile and nod and carry on in our ignorance
An honest woman she remained
Set her sights in North Carolina so long her last name made a stain
Gertrude cherry along with aunts uncles n cousins made a home on what was renamed cherry town road
I just bask in the glory that even in a segregated south us blacks could get so much as 40 acres and a street name
This history that brews in the town
Of a husband named charles cherry, loved his 10 kids but beat my papa cause he wasnt his own
An honest father he remained
Even got himself a store, of this and thats and penny candy
They came from slave and raised a tribe
Of doctors, preachers and business owners
My papa being the latter then passing it onto my daddy
And then their was me

This Saturday I saw my great grandmother for the final time
And I cant tell if im angry at her for being such an honest woman
Or if I hate myself because I know I could never be
i come from a great lineage that i rarely ever speak of
Encompassed in unity and honest and love
I stared death in the face, buried a generation of my blood
and now What will I make of me?

“Everything is temporary.”

—   3 words that completely changed my life once I fully accepted them   (via asdfghjkllove)

(Source: lunacrystals, via w0lfindisguise)


the only card i will ever send

(via thefuuuucomics)