"The red washingdown the bathtub
can't change the color of the sea
at all." ~Derrick C. Brown
私 の 心 です.
Hey guys! :)
I need some more followers. I obsessively reblog anything to do with Mad Men, history, or food. I enjoy cute animals and snarkiness. Occasionally I write poetry that I believe to be entirely unimpressive, but that I post anyway. I am moderately cute so if you like girls you might get a pleasing picture of me on your dashboard once in a while. Sound like a great deal?!
Follow me and I’ll follow back :)
P.S. I’m a Capricorn so I’m cynical and hate everything but also can be spontaneously sweet and motherly, so yeah and would you like a hug?
P.P.S Also if you reblog this so more people see it I will love you forever and by forever I mean for the five minutes after I see that you reblogged it and before I forget and move onto reblogging cupcakes.
<3 Maggie
Can Megan just fall off a cliff and get eaten by sharks or hit by a car or shot or stabbed by Peggy or something jesus christ.
I can’t wait until next year when all of you are in Vietnam. You will be pining for the day when someone was trying to make your life easier. When you’re over there, and you’re in the jungle, and they’re shooting at you, remember you’re not dying for me, because I never liked you.
(via rachelanneh)
Ah, Mad Men. You puzzle us, you entertain us, you alienate us â and you send us scurrying down rabbit holes of hyper-analysis, historical research, and wild conjecture. Creator Matt Weinerâs insist…
(Source: nastebaste)
Basically all I do when I watch Mad Men is take screenshots of Joan. Loving the feminist slant they’ve given her this season.
That moment when the dude with Peggy Olson says, “I want to be your first” and you and your cousin watching Mad Men just snort in unison because dude she has a friggin baby
Disconsolate are the nights
When I am swept back into the sea of nostalgia
Clawing through the waves
Webs of seaweed pulling me down
Or maybe they are memories
Weighing on my conscious
Drowning me in what was
What might have been
What I did not deserve.
In you I see an ocean
Sunbeams at the surface
Light everywhere
Calls
Beckoning
Water warm as the womb
A sea of comfort
Fit for me to drown in.
And yet beneath
Mystery, black
The great unknown
The darkest possibilities
Things lurking
Things that if they ever reached out to touch me
Would make me scream.
The dark is frightening
Spiders, snakes, and crawling things
Lightening
Or shadows
Quakes
Or the silence of bleak eternity
Hammered out from the grave
Death is frightening
Sharks, bears, rats, oh my
Water
Or blades
Solitude
Or the view from a 56th story balcony
That you never want to leave
There are many frightening things
Newly discovered or
Old as time
But nothing is quite as frightening
As the fact
That I would travel to the end of existence
Dragging myself on hands and knees
Through eons
Of sand, waves, rocks, glass
The deep cold and collapsing nothingness
Of the galaxy
For the chance to see myself reflected in your eyes.
I cannot hear it.
Words seethed
Sharpened like well-tended blades
Intentions dark
Like the hidden caverns of the heart
I cannot hear it.
Accusations
Interpretations
Truth
Carving me like scalpels
Piling rocks
Into the pit of my stomach
I cannot hear it.
To know that her hands were where mine now rest
To know that her words filled your skull
And yours in turn filled hers
To know that she held you
Every part of you
Enclosed within her insidious warmth
To know that your past is an iceberg
Submerged beneath a world in which I did not exist
To know that you did not miss me
Oh God
I cannot hear it.
