Come to me

This part of Phantom is why I’m insane

Nosferatu (1922)

Santiago Licata

Crows

by Mary Oliver

It is January, and there are crows like black flowers on the snow. While I watch, they rise and float toward the frozen pond, they have seen some streak of death on the dark ice. They gather around it and consume everything, the strings and the red music of that nameless body. Then they shout, one hungry, blunt voice echoing another. It begins to rain. Later, it becomes February, and even later, spring returns, a chorus of thousands. They bow, and begin their important music. I recognize the oriole. I recognize the thrush, and the mockingbird. I recognize the business of summer, which is to forge ahead, delicately. So I dip my fingers among the green stems, delicately. I lounge at the edge of the leafing pond, delicately. I scarcely remember the crust of the snow. I scarcely remember the icy dawns and the sun like a lamp without a fuse. I don’t remember the fury of loneliness. I never felt the wind’s drift. I never heard of the struggle between anything and nothing. I never saw the flapping, blood-gulping crows.

2007

Two Kittens by Kawano Kaoru (1950's)

cameron is "what if wilson was Actually the person he proclaims to be" foreman is "what if house was Actually who he wishes he was" chase is a slut who spreads his legs for anything that moves. kutner is dead

how it feels to reblog one of your own old posts because you still think its funny