Mediocre never looked so nice |
Make me smile, and i'll return the favor. |
(Source: time-cop, via filthyphil)
I feel like I got robbed
By the perfect criminal.
Worth more than gold
my affection, acknowledged,
and promptly snuffed out.
I’ve been robbed
by a thief whose face I know,
but have never seen.
I have no rights however,
wrapped in self-pity
I lost the chance I never had.
To all the lovers who took from me,
asked for keeps only to return damaged,
which way is the exit?
I don’t think I can afford this anymore.
The sun breaks through the slats of the white faux wood window blinds, rays hitting my face ever so gently. I toss betwixt my sheets wondering which thief hustled off with my shut-eye and how could they possibly make time fly that fast? As my feet hit the ground I shudder, I forgot what it feels like to not soar. The rough ground makes me question getting out of bed today. I stand for a moment only to sit back down, I sit for a long while; the day grows long outside my window. I can sleep just a little bit longer.
I am growing a shell,
of drugs, sex, lies, and hurt.
It grows heavy on my back, making it difficult to,
lurch onwards.
With my vice as my armor
I wave my axe (handle of whiskey, blade sharp as my sober mind),
oblivious to the fact that my enemies seem to shed my own blood.
[trigger warning: sexual harassment, anti-trans hate, body dysphoria]
Performing my “IT” poem at Brave New Voices 2010 in Los Angeles, CA. Semifinals.
Reppin PYPM! (Philly Youth Poetry Movement if you don’t know)
Team Black! Dashikis and War paint!
Oh look, Kavi on my blog.
AHHHH GENDER POETRY. Watch it. WATCH IT, damnit.
Beautiful. A tiny bit triggering for dysphoria, but beautiful all the same.
my cries.
the jaw: it is on the floor.
I cried. this right here is raw, powerful, and fucking beautiful.
(Source: barebrownboy, via littleelk)
blua:
“I think it’s wonderful for public relations! I really do. I enjoy it, I’m happy on the bike. …If I didn’t have the bicycle, well I’m not very good at walking, I’d be more or less in retirement. At least I can get around and see the beauty of the place too. This bike suits me, it’s quite old now and I’m 82 and three quarters. I’m not sure If I’d manage with the new bike having all the gears.”
Stephanie Baker, on riding a bicycle in Pretoria, South Africa
(Source: goodnightsweetgirl, via whoosiewhatsie)
Be Drunk
You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
…drunk.
But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be
drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything
that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is
singing, everything that is speaking…ask what time it is and
wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you:”It is time to be
drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be
continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”
Charles Baudelaire
Afternoon Snack: For his second birthday, Bunk’s owners surprised him with a room full of balloons plump for the popping.
[reddit.]
Easter Egg of the Day: Hey, remember that awesome Les Paul Google Doodle that you spent the last two days driving your coworkers nuts with ...
“Private Parts”
submitted by olypunkboi
Oh. How nice. For more, KYMdb - Good Guy Greg.