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It's not the time to sleep now. Wake up. Wake up.

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abandonedography:

An abandoned train car lays over a river in Diliska, Georgia, now being reused as a bridge.

(Coordinates

(via abandoned-but-loved)


9:29 pm     7,025 notes
September 1 2014

and i took to eating black things - huitlacoche the corn mushroom, coffee, dark chiles, the bruised part of fruit, the darkest, blackest things to make me hard and strong.

a witches fanmix [listen]

(Source: direndone, via fuckyeahfanmixes)


3:48 pm     102 notes
September 1 2014

abandonedography:

Abandoned Moss Covered Cabin, Washington State, Patrick McManus

abandonedography:

Abandoned Moss Covered Cabin, Washington State, Patrick McManus

(via abandoned-but-loved)


10:33 am      657 notes
September 1 2014

rawrrachey:

glassbottomairplane:

Cool ghost photography by surrealist photographer Cristopher McKenney.

(via non-volerli-vittime)


12:16 pm     75,899 notes
August 17 2014

socialpsychopathblr:

By Nikolay Tikhomirov

(via se-van)


1:00 pm     8,500 notes
August 9 2014

This city is made of wolves and gods,
nymphs with hacked off hair and kohled-up eyes,
wide-eyed prophets slurring over a bottle of Jack.

Ares dons leather as he prowls outside the club.
Mottled bruising spills into the half-crescent below
his eye – a bar fight left him bloody, laughing.

Old Lucifer and his host of rebel angels smoke Marlboros
in the alleyway. Abaddon spent the night in a holding cell
last weekend, head bowed and teeth gleaming.

This time, they keep to the shadows. This generation,
these new party monsters slicked with glitter and sweat,
birthed from smoke machines and sticky dancefloors —

well, the prince of darkness knows better than to meddle.

Here, we are the wolves. Divinity had the sense
not to touch us. Instead, we bare our teeth, clutch bottles
like lifelines, soak up the messy beats, hide in the
darkness between the strobe lighting.

In battered neon lights our names are written,
like stars, but less.

coleridges (via luscifers)

(Source: machiavels, via luscifers)


2:39 pm     1,965 notes
August 6 2014

(Source: veraintheden, via museumghost)


5:39 pm      94,272 notes
August 3 2014

you’d been betrothed to lunacy;
oh, but siren of the bourn,
how the madman adored you,
and how he loved you still.

our ends are our beginnings, a.m.

(Ophelia, for ndsays.)

(via mirroir)


10:26 pm     831 notes
August 2 2014

daysandhours:

This is God’s Country : Southern Gothic

Music for the days when you believe in God, the Devil, and dark banjo licks. Stomp your feet, clap your hands, and string your fiddle, because it’s time to down that whiskey and sing your song. This may be God’s country, but there are demons living here. The South is full of blood, blues, and belles, and there ain’t a soul alive that can remember otherwise.

8tracks / spotify / songza / download

(via fuckyeahfanmixes)


8:14 pm     4,786 notes
August 2 2014

(Source: riskyteacher, via liahpaisley)


8:13 pm      126,645 notes
August 2 2014

s.t.