November 2010
99 posts
dowhateversnext:
It’s close to midnight and something evil’s lurking in the dark Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes You’re paralyzed
‘Cause this is thriller, thriller night!
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So this is a musical idea that’s been...
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Let lesbians into the military so their straight... →
Fuck this guy. Also, worth noting from the comment section:
Is it just me, or does anyone else get the sense that he was rubbing his tiny, crooked peepee while typing the line “those lithe naked bodies” with one hand?
It’s not just you, Jecca Vanderbeck.
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Participate in my poll?
mols:
If you’re a boy, please reblog this post.
(click here if you’re female)
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==> Be the other guy.
You are now the other guy. Your name is SESNEN AVERSE. You have many and diverse INTERESTS. You ENJOY MATH AND PHILOSOPHY and pursue both LANGUOROUSLY. You check MSPAINTADVENTURES with a regularity USUALLY RESERVED FOR BREATHING. You have STRONG OPINIONS ABOUT SOCIETAL EQUALITY which may or may not have something to do with your TERRIBLY LOW PLACE IN THE HEMOSPECTRUM. Your LUSUS is HEAVILY INTO...
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Something like this, maybe?
(yes I made this...
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Your Heart was a Thorn
Your heart is a twisted poem, or a fine, dry wine, so cold, so pretty in the glass, so haughtily vile on the tongue. My love is a mistake- a bear, her foot entrapped in steel, a moth with her head in a net. My love is like chains- more to the point, shoelaces tied to each other: my haste dooms my escape.
My heart is a caged and strangled bird, not so proud as a cow’s ass, branded time and...
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Watch
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From Clay
I. i set my clay hands in the sun to bake and my clay body froze i watched the years with marble eyes the seasons in their turn they built cities where I stood and still my joints were petrified they burned cities to my feet and still was i petrified their young carved tracks in my side and their old lay by me to die and by and by my hands crumbled to dust II. their rich roared to the crowds...
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Love of Words
We cut our names into the flesh of trees, mementos of our long-lost lovers. We lust for permanence. We cut and paste our souls to collage: a scrapbooker’s fingers, pressed betwixt pages, a daisy, a bluebell, and red metacarpals. We make our eyes teary for lack of water, here between us and the printed page. We commit suicide like a lepidopterist commits murder, pins to our feathers to the...
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It's time to go to bed.
So I’m staring at this
while listening to this
and I’m convinced I’ve ascertained something meaningful about the universe.
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WatchSCIENCE!
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I think I should like
I. I think I should like to die on fire burning from sternum to fingertip I would keep talking till the flames devoured my voice keep walking until keep living on burning on beaconing on burning bright until my soul has immolated and I have been my greatest yet my greatest and my best II. I think I should like to die in a suit because a man in a suit is a rich man and suits are so antiquated...
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What the fuck. →
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Weighty Bones
Your eyes are dark and small as shadows, your skin rough with time. Your smile makes me shiver. I feel the strength of your presence, the weight of your bones. Collar me so I can remember always what you have been.
If you can remember me in the morning, please, find me where you left me dreaming. You’ll know me by the questions in my eyes, and I will know you by your scent. You will know me...
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Deconstruction
Sign your name or a cross in my darkest places; look there to see where my writing precedes you. Follow veins, then, North to my heart, see where I am bleeding where your pen has cut it; see how it collapses at the touch of you. Take my arteries and lay them out in fans, so delicate as the wings of a butterfly; leave a kiss wherever their tracks should form a plaster cast of your spidery...
Pundits are worse than chance. →
It fascinates me how many fields there are whose experts are worse than chance at making predictions. Money is another one.
