THIS!

thefrenemy:

If the world ended tonight, everyone knows we’d end up on the roof. The roof is where you go when there’s fireworks, when you need lemonade in silence, and when everything is over. There would be whiskey for me just when the fires started. A real display. I’d throw the empty bottle thirty feet…

Fuck you, you filthy slut.

That is all. 

Yes! This!

thefrenemy:

I want to tell him to grow up, but he wouldn’t have heard me, on account of him covering his ears and all.

There’s this guy standing in front of me right now-adult, able to buy his own toothpaste, knows his jeans size in inches. This guy has totally lost his shit somewhere on the corner of…

I don’t want to know about it, I don’t want to hear about it, I don’t want to wake up thinking about it. I don’t want that and you and her and what I know you’re saying and what I know she’s saying back and what you’re both thinking to affect ME.

It’s making me sick, angry, nauseous, sad, aggressive and insane and I don’t want to know about it.

I want it to stop. I want you to get it out of your system and then stop. Because it’s humiliating. And it’s making me angry. And if it makes ME feel like this, how the fuck do you think HE would feel, if HE knew about it?

It’s time for this to stop.

jayarrarr:

I’ve been on the fence ever since this whole phenomenon started, it’s true. I tend to be an early adopter; technology is my friend. I got an iPod as soon as it was feasible for me to do so (as a broke college student, I had to wait a couple generations) and never looked back. And…

• I realised that my garden IS actually trying to hurt me.
• I added ‘shtoink’ to my computer’s dictionary.
• I drank Jim Beam from the bottle before I ate breakfast but after coffee and a cigarette, so it’s kind of ok.
• Started writing an article about… Let’s say “relationships“…
• Read other people’s articles that were better written, funnier and more eloquent.
• Listened to new Florence and the Machine songs on the internet.
• Watched 2 Broke Girls.
• Researched a little more on the subject of my article on… Let’s say “relationships”.
• Changed my clothes.
• Tried on my Halloween outfit.
• Changed again.
• Sat in the sun.
• Drank a little more Jim Beam from the bottle to aid my rehearsal.
• Wrote this…

Sometimes I wish I were a man…

So I could say “Suck my cock, bitch”

With more credibility…

I’m not angry.

It’s just that “Suck my labia”

Or

“Lick my ovaries”

Or

“Eat my cunt”

Sound vulgar

Whereas “Suck my cock, bitch!”

Is common…

Lyrical…

Acceptable…

Said on buses…

On phones…

Allowed… Aloud…

“Lick my ovaries, cunt!”

A pretty tautology.

To which mine replies

“I would if I could”…

My mirrors lie to me.

One tells me now I’m pretty,

The other says “Get out, you skanky whore!”

My mirrors lie to me.

One runs it’s tender hands across my breasts.

“Perfect. Voluptuous. Smooth and lush”

One pinches my nipples ‘til I cry.

“Too big, too big, you’re ugly, you’re fat, your boobs are too big!”

My mirrors lie to me.

“Copper hair, shining amber in the sun, like a Titian dream…”

“It’s shapeless. Too long. The colour’s all wrong!”

“Your eyes, so emerald green, witch-light shining bright”

“The colour of fresh mould. Barely worth the gift of sight”…

My mirrors lie to me…

jayarrarr:

Ask me what poetry is
I’ll correct you — gentle —
:: who ::
Because:
Poetry is a beautiful girl
with crooked teeth.
Poetry’s eyes sparkle equal
if she’s happy or pissed
(it’s the passion shinin’ through)

Poetry interrupts your rant
— devoid of point or meaning —
by throwin’ a…

Just… YUM!!!

I am currently in negotiations with a prospective new employer, trying to work out what to charge prison inmates for editing their books - What the fuck?!? Is it weird that I’m more excited about this job opportunity than any other that I’ve been offered???