beauhemia

ponderous poetry and photography amidst the psychedelic adventure.

Porous hours of twilight

Do you ever just find the precious moments in day,

Where you find your median?

Your absolute clarity of being, the smile of the face happiness?

I find that place, in the wee hours, not exactly, morning or evening,

Bare quiet, sacred hours. 

Seeing my lover and my love in deep succumbed sleep,

Being utterly content and free.

It feels as if my soul itself is glowing, growing, 

Evaporating through my porous flesh,

Where I am not ashamed of anything,

I am free.

inkneverdies:

Her beauty was golden
Not like jewelry
Closer to that of
All the gold in the universe
Melted into one soul
Golden like the sunset, or
A Childs first breath

(via s-emi-colon)

(via mystrangesilhouettes)

(via s-emi-colon)

She can sell the moon
at any day she pleases.
She had a face that says ‘You will love me.

Grind

It’s almost 4 am and I have been awake all night clenching my teeth,

He says I grind in my sleep, I stay awake to try and see,

Empty, drained nothingness lingers in my matter,

Nothing helps this anxiety, this limbo awakening,

Thoughts are complied and miscommunicated, 

not even this bowl will help make the void disappear,

I wish it was easy for the brain to shut off, unplug, decimate, 

But I’m back in the glowing screen of writing nothingness,

Fictitious world we so desperately cling too,

As this is are only way to feel again, 

Orgasm again, the subtle animist of mystery that tickles are very essence of being,

I wish I could love them unconditionally, tell them that it’s okay,

I am here, I’ve been there, you can move on, 

But that’s hogwash, 

Peoples adolescent mannerisms and pride get the better of things,

So we will crawl back to our dens, and stare at the sparkly glass mirror, 

In hopes for a fellow mirrored soul,

Cause that’s what we are,

Mirrors. 

Fathers Day 2012

This is a letter; a true letter, the first letter I ever wrote my dad. I never had the courage to even give it to him. Maybe it wasn’t meant for him, but for me instead.

Dad,

I love the way you laugh most of all, especially when I make you feel proud of me. I love how I always feel safe in your arms. But honestly, I love you since the day you took me to see my hero Barney. When you raised my short little nugget ass up to meet him. You’re really the greatest person I know, you’re so smart and funny, even when you’re telling your “dad” jokes to all my friends. my favorite of all is that your tall. You make me feel bigger, stronger, more lovely, brilliant and wanting to conquer the world. I know I do not show you all the time, but I do love you with all my heart. You’re fearless. You live true. You never let anyone or anything try to change your common ground. I miss you. And from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I worry you and drive you crazy about where I am, what I’m doing, if I’m safe, when I’m coming home.

Sincerely,

Sarah

It's a Girl: Join the Fight Against Gendercide →

Up to 200 million girls are missing in the world. We must end #gendercide now! ..

Richelle E. Goodrich 

(Source: ybb55, via acidlacedwithdesire)

Anyone who takes the time to be kind is beautiful.

Unknown 

(Source: asvpxshea, via acidlacedwithdesire)

Claim her, love her, fuck her, spoil her, be faithful to her, trust her and she will remain yours.

Henry David Thoreau 

(Source: vegan-veins, via the-amazing-jay-zus)

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.

theghostbled:

I would enjoy a pen pal who will send letters back within good time, open minded, free spirited wants to find a best friend thru the words from there heart and mind and building trust with another knowing someone will be there for you, if your feeling alone at night and we both skype with each other eaither talking or just doing your own thing but having each other their for company. If only someone shared the same feeling on this topic as myself

I love this :)

Somebody ask me questions….need to orgasm my brain, and talk about important lovely things.

The laundry mat

Giggling, rolling machines in circles,

Over and over again,

warm fungus digesting,

Tears leaking down warm cheeks,

I look over at her, her pupils elated,

Hold my knees, I’ve never lived before,

Tiny asian man walks in the in-between,

Glances and stares, 

Meet me at the river, meet by the tracks,

I walked to far too distant to go back,

Bathed in the moonlight, nude in her glow,

Mooning myself, filling up with the gleams,

Hole in the room, She sings to me,

We picked the fresh citrus from the trees

No one else wanted,

Perfect little oranges,

peels apart in mouth sized pieces,

Can’t feel my feet, they move, I follow,

Need to be breathing fresh oxygen,

Be still, wait, 20 minutes more,

Trying to close my eyes to sleep,

Sleep won’t come,

Pools of colors and mixtures slurring in 

the Inbetween, my eyelids flickering to close,

Lost in thought,

Sitting back in those plastic benches,

Hanging around,

20 minutes, till the next load.

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