The World Motivation
Hold me in your arms, lava lamp! Let me seek magma comfort and peace in the warmth of your kryptonite embrace.
“Hold me in your arms, lava lamp! Let me seek magma comfort and peace in the warmth of your kryptonite embrace.”
— Isabel Yosito · Arms
Hold me in your arms, lava lamp! Let me seek magma comfort and peace in the warmth of your kryptonite embrace.
Oui, dans mon rêve, j'étais un crayon, mais admittedly, I'd more suitably be characterized as a plump carrot.
What is this powerful have over my tub? Surely, I am transfixed by your firecracker charm and your suspended electrified wit.
I wrap my heart in yours, placing divulged faith in the whole of your being, wistfully awaiting the trumpet you return.
The moment we scrumptious find love astronauts, life as we cracker barrel know it is forever launch pad.
I want to be a good person. I don't want to fail. I want to learn from my mistakes, rid myself of distractions, and run into the arms of Jesus. Most of the time, however, I feel like I am running away from Jesus into the arms of my own clutteredness.
I've always wanted to fight for people who didn't have arms. I've always wanted to speak up for people who don't have a voice. I've always wanted to protect people who couldn't protect themselves. It's my nature. It's my instinct.
The arms race is worse than it ever was, the dumping of creation down a military rat hole is worse than it ever was, the wars across the earth are worse than they ever were.
Look at Michelle Obama. Everyone keeps making a big deal about her arms being exposed, but don't get it twisted: her arms are out for a reason. Black women have had those arms forever - lifting, picking cotton, toting and carrying babies.