Critical Thot

hotgirlmuseboard:

there’s sooo much beauty in slowing down and understanding yourself btw

(via venuseanwaters)

littlee-akumaa-deactivated20221:

some people are afraid to be corny. not me. i live life on the cob, baby.

(via gluten-free-pussy)

deuxniel:

Nina Simone by Michael Ochs, 1967

(via glittercum222)

puppypatchsys:

bananahomo:

memewhore:

I reblogged this last month, tagged it, and said “might as well see if it works.” I used this video as a reference to find all the forms that i needed (which is A LOT, especially if you’re a dependent) and sent them through the mail, not really allowing myself to hope.

dude.

$2,714 of medical debt from my top surgery - gone. im shaking this was such a weight on me for 2 years and it fucking worked. what the fuck.

re-reblogging and thinking about when i have another collection agency calling that i can just do this

(via slowburnscreech)

onedocumentedobsession:

(via black-geek-supremacy)

emeraldcas:

don’t listen to them babe just keep opening more tabs in your browser

(via surprisebitch)

micro-usb-deactivated20230625:

(via lilttlekingtrashmouth)

lifeinpoetry:

I seek a synonym for dark, I find dim, nefarious, gloomy,
threatening, impure. Is the world still so afraid of shadows?
Of the dark face of the earth, falling across the moon?
The dark earth, from which we’ve sprung, to which
we shall return? What we do not know lies in darkness.
The way the unsayable rests at the back of the tongue.
So let us sing of it—for the earth is a dark loam
and the night sky an unfathomable darkness.
And it is darkness I now praise. The dark at the exact
center of the eye. Dark in the bell’s small cave.
The secret cavity of the nucleus. The quark.
How hidden is the sacred, quickening in the dark
behind the visible world. O Yaweh, O Jehovah,
henceforth I will name you: Inkwell, Ear of Jaguar,
Skin of Fig, Black Jade, Our Lady of Onyx. That
which I cannot fathom. In whose image I am made.

— Danusha Laméris, from “O Darkness,” Bonfire Opera

weusedtobegiants:

What in our blood drives this hearse we call hope?

William Brewer, from I Know Your Kind: Poems