WRENCH
I’m seeing the Venice level of Tomb Raider in this photo.

I’m seeing the Venice level of Tomb Raider in this photo.

Sometimes it’s just soothing to burn things.

Sometimes it’s just soothing to burn things.

An MD-11F aircraft being painted in our hangar 7.

I will revisit next week when it is more complete.

I can’t catch my legs,
When rolled into a ball

I can’t catch my legs,
Magician sawed me in half

I can’t catch my legs,
Train is dragging them behind

I can’t catch my legs,
Since the aliens probed me

I can’t catch my legs,
I’m too busy eating them

I can’t catch my legs,
They’re running much too fast

I can’t catch my legs,
When rolled into a ball

I can’t catch my legs,
Magician sawed me in half

I can’t catch my legs,
Train is dragging them behind

I can’t catch my legs,
Since the aliens probed me

I can’t catch my legs,
I’m too busy eating them

I can’t catch my legs,
They’re running much too fast

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.

Some things are better left unsaid. (via poppyflowerpoetry)

Poppyflowerpoetry so beautifully written

When you walked in the room
My brain exploded in expletives and innuendo
An internal case of tourettes
Out of control until you were out of sight

Afterwards I’m left drained and panting
As if I’d run a marathon
Or like we’d had sex
Though perhaps a few rounds in the ring is more accurate

I’ll never know

I’m running away from you

When you walked in the room
My brain exploded in expletives and innuendo
An internal case of tourettes
Out of control until you were out of sight

Afterwards I’m left drained and panting
As if I’d run a marathon
Or like we’d had sex
Though perhaps a few rounds in the ring is more accurate

I’ll never know

I’m running away from you

the-pursuit-of-grandeur:

I drive by your house every night

Okay not the one you live in.

I mean the one where we left our innocence plastered to the tops of any surface that could support even an ounce of the affection our bodies could never contain

I am not one for nostalgia but,

I remember the way the floors groaned…

Good shit

listoflifehacks:

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incidentalcomics:

Conflict in Literature

incidentalcomics:

Conflict in Literature

Interior of a Boeing 747 all stripped down for inspection at my work.

Interior of a Boeing 747 all stripped down for inspection at my work.

Tree stands tall to the world
Stiff on basic principle
Brittle to the bone
Hard against the wind
Until he shatters as such things do

Now fragmented in a thousand bits
Tree cannot reassemble

Tree is no Avenger
Tree stands tall to the world
Stiff on basic principle
Brittle to the bone
Hard against the wind
Until he shatters as such things do

Now fragmented in a thousand bits
Tree cannot reassemble

Tree is no Avenger

A stack of papers
Clean and crisp
Cream colored and pleasing to touch
Just the thing to write the next great novel upon

With my favorite pen in hand
That’s just what I set out to do

A painfully virgin sheet laid gently upon the green surface of the desk
So perfect looking
Like a picture

So I actually did that first
Took a picture
Entitled “Clean Page Upon Green Desktop”
And I posted it to my Instagram
Then to Tumblr
But with the hashtag of #boobs
Because otherwise nobody would have looked at it

Then with pen hovering over the page
I set out to write
But found that I could not

No word seemed good enough to be the first
Not “A” or “The”
I doubt even “Call me Whaleboy” would have sufficed

So as one part distraction and one part inspiration
I played a word game upon the page
Word associating my way down until it became a letter to every woman I’d ever loved

The curve of their hip
Cup of a breast
Red sweet lips
Plus eye of newt
And I almost had a bitchin’ witches potion

I felt like I could do something now
Inspired even

Closing my eyes in momentary relief
I resolved to throw out the used up first page and start anew
But then I opened my eyes and saw that the page was still blank
My pen still hovering above it
Wrist beginning to hurt
No word game had ensued
No inspiration had inspired

There was a knock at my door
I slowly put down my impotent pen
Glaring at it as if it were all its fault
Rotated in my swivel chair
Got up and answered the damned door

A stack of papers
Clean and crisp
Cream colored and pleasing to touch
Just the thing to write the next great novel upon

With my favorite pen in hand
That’s just what I set out to do

A painfully virgin sheet laid gently upon the green surface of the desk
So perfect looking
Like a picture

So I actually did that first
Took a picture
Entitled “Clean Page Upon Green Desktop”
And I posted it to my Instagram
Then to Tumblr
But with the hashtag of #boobs
Because otherwise nobody would have looked at it

Then with pen hovering over the page
I set out to write
But found that I could not

No word seemed good enough to be the first
Not “A” or “The”
I doubt even “Call me Whaleboy” would have sufficed

So as one part distraction and one part inspiration
I played a word game upon the page
Word associating my way down until it became a letter to every woman I’d ever loved

The curve of their hip
Cup of a breast
Red sweet lips
Plus eye of newt
And I almost had a bitchin’ witches potion

I felt like I could do something now
Inspired even

Closing my eyes in momentary relief
I resolved to throw out the used up first page and start anew
But then I opened my eyes and saw that the page was still blank
My pen still hovering above it
Wrist beginning to hurt
No word game had ensued
No inspiration had inspired

There was a knock at my door
I slowly put down my impotent pen
Glaring at it as if it were all its fault
Rotated in my swivel chair
Got up and answered the damned door

shakethecobwebs:

I was hoping I would never have to ask tumblr for help again, but I just got an email from my school and I am freaking the fuck out right now.

I was under the impression that my financial aid could pay for my medical bills, but I just got an email from my school saying that they all need to…