(via dela-noche)


(via dela-noche)


(via dela-noche)



caciocavallo:

Favourite MusiciansAnthony Kiedis.

(via theacidfairyprincess)


What cannot be said will be wept.

(via dela-noche)


h4ilstorm:

horns (by rwtrent)

h4ilstorm:

horns (by rwtrent)

(via dela-noche)


(via dela-noche)


marthajefferson:

statuemania:

Dornröschen (Sleeping Beauty), by Louis Sussmann-Hellborn, 1878 - Berlin, Germany.

marthajefferson:

statuemania:

Dornröschen (Sleeping Beauty), by Louis Sussmann-Hellborn, 1878 - Berlin, Germany.

(via dela-noche)



legeniedumal:

matociquala:

“Was not that Lucifer an angell once?”

“Yes Faustus, and most dearlie lov’d of God.”

kaon4shi:

alwaysenduphere:

Le génie du mal [The genius of evil, aka; Lucifer]; Guillaume Geefs 

“The statue was originally a commission for Geefs’ younger brother Joseph, who completed it in 1842 and installed it the following year. It generated controversy at once and was criticized for not representing a Christian ideal.The cathedral administration declared that “this devil is too sublime.” The local press intimated that the work was distracting the “pretty penitent girls” who should have been listening to the sermons.” [x]

[The original ‘sublime’ version shown below, and the ‘revised’ one in the photoset above]

image

> Make sculpture of the devil

> No this sculpture is too hot for church

> Make another one

> It’s even hotter

my blog’s namesake for a reason


glittergarters:

A pop of color

glittergarters:

A pop of color

(via songbirdsweresinging)


Rotten Roots

Your initials now mean,

To me,

Rotten Roots,

R.R..

Because that’s all you ever planted with me.

That’s how it started.

You lured me into your fake

Blue eyes,

Your lippy

Smile

And promised me time.

Well, that time wasn’t ever meant

For me.

I would have been fine,

It you had told me 

From the start.

Then you were gone,

For a while.

Came back about three,

Four,

Or was it

Five

Months later?

I can’t recall,

But you came back.

It was a surprise

Because I really wasn’t expecting you

At all.

I wasn’t planning 

To know you ever

In the future.

And you became

My next four,

Four fucking years.

But I don’t think it all

Really counts.

No.

They don’t.

Your snickering about

My anything and

Lack of understaning

About whatever you felt

wasn’t related to you.

I related it to you.

I don’t know when you realized.

Or if you even have.