Festival of Pain
Miss you

I know I will never meet you

I know I will never see you

I know I will never speak to you

But I will always think of you

Keep you in the deepest

Layers of my hidden heart

Fly like a kite in my soul

With rainbow colors

In my sky of life

The dancer is realistic. His craft teaches him to be. Either the foot is pointed or it is not. No amount of dreaming will point it for you. This requires discipline, not drill, not something imposed from without, but discipline imposed by you yourself upon yourself. … Your goal is freedom. But freedom may only be achieved through discipline. In the studio you learn to conform, to submit yourself to the demands of your craft, so that you may finally be free.
Martha Graham (via creativesomething)
A loss of passion in creativity is regularly a result of stress, or a lack of focus, or a fear of risk, or the feeling of doing work that is under appreciated. It’s the photographer who doesn’t feel as though her photos receive any recognition, or the painter who doesn’t know what medium is right for him. Creative passion can go missing, it happens. The dangerous part comes from giving up when you do lose passion; from calling it quits and accepting the fact that you just don’t have it in you.
Work doesn’t have to feel like Work with a capital W. You should be able to feel passion, purpose, and meaning in whatever you do. And that shift in perspective can open up a world of possibilities.
Tom and David Kelley from their great book, Creative Confidence (via creativesomething)
masochisticbeauty:
masochisticbeauty:
masochisticbeauty:

When I say fuck me. Fuck me good and hard. Slam your cock deep into me, make me feel it to the very core and want it deeper. Bite my shoulder, growl my name. Call me all those dirty little names that I love.

masochisticbeauty:

When I say fuck me. Fuck me good and hard. Slam your cock deep into me, make me feel it to the very core and want it deeper. Bite my shoulder, growl my name. Call me all those dirty little names that I love.

REBLOG this if you wish someone who lives far away lived closer.
Misty Morning

Wake up so early

Even before the

First call for prayer

Normally deserts

Are awakening to the day

With this call

Was unable to sleep again

Got ready and drove

Mistry morning

Full of mist and

The cold of winter

Lights are just like

Fading candles

Covered with snow

Yet another day

Alone in the office

And starting to read you

And mind began to

Dream you

And write for you

Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It’s a gift to the world and every being in it. Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.
Steven Pressfield from his timeless book, The War of Art (via creativesomething)