I wanna be the thought that slips your mind
the thought that makes you come
to your senses

But I’m shy
so I’ll never tell you that
Instead I’ll say something like
“wanna hold hands sometime ?
wanna come over to my house and watch tv ?”
And I don’t have a tv
So you’d be left flipping the channels of me
my breath on your neck like perfect reception
I’d tell you things like how I know
all your lies and deceptions have just been commercials
before the real show…

But if you said glow
I’d cut my soul into a million little pieces just to form constellations to light your way home
I’d hire little tiny gnomes
to play the parts of dick Cheney and George Bush
so you could squish ‘em between your toes and feed ‘em to your cat
I’d love you like that
All political and shit

Like the distance between my body and yours
is the same distance that stretches from shore to shore
from right to left
from rich to poor
and we could fuck our way to one brilliant communist union

And I know fuck is a bad word
but it sounds so good
Good like flipping off the preacher whenever he forgets that Eve was Adam’s teacher
‘Cause apples are fucking healthy, you patriarchial piece of shit

Back to you
Your eyes are so
I can’t remember if they are brown or blue
But you’re a really great dresser
I am too, but you are better
And I’m not looking for forever
I’m just looking for that one moment
when your collar bone phones my mother at home and thanks her for giving birth to my breath
When the tides of your chest rise and fall on my shore
And I swear I can hear the sound of every name I was ever given and every life I lived before
Singing arias from the vocal chords of your pores

And I’m more than sure
that you’re all wrong for me
but all right would mean we have a lot in common
and I’m not attracted to common things
I prefer we sing our tears
so we can save the water to drown our fears

And there’s something like an ocean
in the motion of your fingertips
when they sweep your hair from your eyes
and you stare into mine
like you know I’m not an angel
But I used to be

So I was thinking
maybe you’d wanna hold hands sometime
maybe you’d wanna come over to my house
and watch tv

— "Slip Your Mind" by Andrea Gibson (via alexicon91)

(via itshandeled)


It started as a joke but I can’t pretend anymore. SUCH A CRUSH ON KC POLICE TWITTER.


The world is blue at its edges and in its depths. This blue is the light that got lost. Light at the blue end of the spectrum does not travel the whole distance from the sun to us. It disperses among the molecules of the air, it scatters in water. Water is colorless, shallow water appears to be the color of whatever lies underneath it, but deep water is full of this scattered light, the purer the water the deeper the blue. The sky is blue for the same reason, but the blue at the horizon, the blue of land that seems to be dissolving into the sky, is a deeper, dreamier, melancholy blue, the blue at the farthest reaches of the places where you see for miles, the blue of distance. This light that does not touch us, does not travel the whole distance, the light that gets lost, gives us the beauty of the world, so much of which is in the color blue.

For many years, I have been moved by the blue at the far edge of what can be seen, that color of horizons, of remote mountain ranges, of anything far away. The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and of desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not. And the color of where you can never go. For the blue is not in the place those miles away at the horizon, but in the atmospheric distance between you and the mountains.

Rebecca Solnit