There is a place where the crocodiles come to play. A swampy marsh, hidden deep into the reaches of a forgotten imagination, a discarded memory that somehow still hung on. It’s a place where the reeds are tall enough to tickle your nose and the air is hot and heavy, almost thick enough to slice away with a butter knife. In hushed tones the females whisper, huddling around the stiff weeds. In fathomless voices they murmur and mumble, their tails coiled carefully around speckled white eggs. Here the crocodiles gather after each and every day. A place where they give into long chases around the pond, and snap playfully at each other’s winding, scaly tails. The males smile at each other, their faces twisting into crude grimaces, as each of them ostentatiously displays the rows upon rows of glistening teeth, neatly jammed tight into his mouth. Perfect little triangles, each meeting at a perfectly sharpened point, they stand ready, flickering from friendly to menacing, as their smiles melt into snarls.

littlepaperparasol asked: i love you syrupy poem!

I love YOU!!

Nordstrom needs to restock this pronto!

Anonymous asked: Are you going to "The Beatles: The Lost Concert" movie premier in a few weeks?

I have no idea when you asked this, but no :( Someone needs to enlighten me about the Beatles, it’s a little embarrassing but I’ve barely ever heard their music

Another photo poem, hope you guys like it!

~Tanisha

When you catch a glimpse of a rainbow,

Do you stop and stare?

In fleeting hopes that time stands still for a moment,

A vanishing chance to shed your despairs.

so prettyy

(via glossfixation)

photo poem, enjoyy

~tanisha

(via glossfixation)