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We looked inside some of the posts by azazeldream and here's what we found interesting.
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Notes Per Post
89K
Likes Per Post
55K
Reblog Per Post
34K
Reply Per Post
23
Time Between Posts
24 days ago
Number of Posts By Type
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16
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1
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Fun Fact
Total funding amounts to $125.3M.
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my fellow tboys I'll hold your hand when i say this but you can't afford to hate yourself in a world that hates you. sometimes just loving yourself is the greatest act of rebellion you can do.
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The Watermelon Woman (1996) dir. Cheryl Dunye
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london boy your flashy clothes are your pride and joy
i noticed you sounded so different talking to my friends, it fits how you look perfectly. i couldn't follow their conversation, images of how you might look with your hair out of place in your pajamas and with sunrise on your face kept flashing in my mind. what does the boy look like under his alluring clothes delicately sewn or picked by hand by the artist. if it matches the soft english spoken to me i cant even imagine how ethereal he might be
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25th of April, full moon
their eyes looked so beautiful today, it's that time of the year hazel eyes start to shine with green. under the weather in London i had hardly felt moments of spring this late into April.
i guess what im trying to say is your eyes shined of Spring, it made the leaves, even if covered by clouds, regain their color. it felt like seeing a flurescent flower bloom from under the dark shrubs of this city. even their voice sounded different this time, there was a blooming buzz i had never noticed before.
i wonder if you miss the warm embrace of the sun on your skin just as much as me. and i wonder how much more can your eyes fluoresce when Summer kisses your neck through the leaves of an olive tree, what is the color of your lips when they can only be satiated on the moments a cold glass of water touches them.
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when someone has found their soulmate, they have tired eyes with a smile, they keep checking their phone for a text, a notification sends them shivers, but if it's not from their lover it brings them back to the vague emptiness. they forget to text their friends, don't show up for their plans, much less start them themselves. i might come, could i bring my lover? at what time could i go back home to them? to a phone call? the time and space for existing in the present alone or with their friends dwindles, but there's always time and space on their mind for small disagreements, how to solve their problems, how to give, how to give, how to give them more.
to be, fully, is to be next to them, they keep a wallpaper with them, a picture on their wallet, in their bag, in their pocket, on their wall, on their desk. isn't true love beautiful? having the need to tell them every detail of your day, good things don't feel true until your lover can feel your happiness through you, no emotion goes by without the excitement of their reaction, no part of your life is just yours, isn't that what love is all about? sharing and giving, sharing and giving.
it isn't toxic if they're doing the same, right? when for a day they don't, you feel a constant punch to your ribs, but after the comedown you're both in the most beautiful bliss and ecstasy you've ever felt. no one else would understand. no other soul could dance in your mind half of the day like theirs, no other person so intently loves this new version of you, created and constructed with them by your side, every step taken knowing you could fall off the stairs into their arms. it is natural to need their validation to make moments feel real, after all, no other pair of eyes has seen every part of you like them.
no one will ever know you as well as a codependent lover, no feeling will ever feel that intense and beautiful, no relationship will intoxicate your days and nights with passion like the true love of your life.
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and i thank you for never taking me by the hand
your love wouldve consumed and nothing wouldve been the same
i wouldnt have had these experiences, and i love myself more for it
thank you for never letting me love you like i wanted to
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i learned how to live for someone
but im glad things didnt work out, im glad i moved out
i learned how to live for myself
and i thank you for never taking me by the hand
your love wouldve consumed me and nothing wouldve been the same
i wouldnt be the same
i wouldnt have had these experiences, and i love myself more for it
thank you for never letting me love you like i wanted to
and im glad you broke my heart and left
things are so much better now
i love you for making me feel so special
and i love you for leaving me
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youre so fun youre so fucking fun isaac— i am sick and tired of being called fun. with the ways i choose to paint my face you must all think i do it on purpose, to be the perfect main course for a side of poppers and prosecco.
on the bed or on the floor, after drinking a bottle of wine or a couple cocktails while you pretend to understand all my ideas and my art, when you take me by the hand under dim red or purple lights i can be anything you want me to be. after all i exist only in the realm of ideas, my body is your playground and you can enact all your most unethical and dirty fantasies, i can be your strict father, your loving boyfriend, your obedient dog all in one tiny little unbreakable body.
i am a mirage of the most beautiful and whimsical, i am a collection of complex, introspective, poetic and philosophical visions that your skin soaks up through the reflection of the sunset emanating from my golden eyes and skin on a rooftop with a view to the cannal.
i am so fucking tired of being all your dreams come true, of being the special transient project made of clay for you to sculpt into perfection and break right before your magnum opus can come to life in a softer body with a less complicated mind. what is it about me that apparently makes me so fucking special that i can never be taken seriously.
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