Ridges. Crags. Thousands stare down from the ceiling, as I lay in bed.
I want them to grow - then strike like vigilantes
Pierce my chest, clutch my lungs.
Choke me, bloody me.
Stuff my life into a dusty vase and toss it deep in the cellar.
Or maybe that’s too good for me.
Even the thought of it leaves me unsurprisingly unfulfilled.
A hungering cancerous husk, growing into ridges or crags or daggers.
Claws that grow - sharpened, poised to strike.
Another ridge to add to restless, sleepless life.
wine supply is low
I know where tomorrow I’ll go
Acquire more of that lovely wine
Drink to spirits reveling in my mind
I’m at a stage with my inner poet and creative side that I feel like putting myself in situations and then writing them.
Things like sitting alone in the dark, lack of sight, only thing I can hear is a shower, only thing I feel is the warmth of the steam.
Sit under a waterfall and let poetry enter my mind. Say it out loud for someone to hear.
Stand in the corner of a club, pen and paper in hand, music so loud I can barley concentrate.
Drive through the countryside as a passenger, write poetry.
Immortalize life in the immediate moment it occurs.
The only person you can legally hit in the United States is a child.
Hit your partner, and you’ll be arrested for domestic violence. Hit another adult, and you’ll be arrested for assault. But hit a 4-year-old, and you can call yourself a “loving father”. That’s completely screwed up.
It should be against the law for a fully grown adult to slap, hit, spank, punch, switch, whoop, whip, paddle, kick or belt a defenseless child in the name of discipline. But it is legal, and new research in the Journal of Family Psychology suggests that the average 4-year-old is hit 936 times a year.
If study after study conclusively proves that hitting your kids doesn’t work as a disciplinary method, and worse, it has long-term damaging impact to their psychology and makes your kids more aggressive, why do we as a society allow it?
some Capulet sometime maybe (via rhymemeariver)
Some days you go from feeling like Oberyn Martell to feeling like Eeyore.