I was Stone and he was Wax So he could scream, and still relax, unbelievable And we frightened the small children away And our talk was old and dust would flow Thru our veins and Lo! it was midnight Back o’ the kitchen door Like the grim face on the Cathedral floor And the solid book we wrote Cannot be found today
We shook knowledge by the spine, and tore out all remnants of dire lines. The sun glowered at danger looming and booming, but took troof in little action. As was usual, we lay grandma, grandpa, and all articles of death as moral dolls. But still they speak “Letting your muscles twitch in the way after is a true master.”
And promptly threw them in the shredder of earth, as my whole being shuddered.
May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness. May all beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering. May all beings rejoice in the well-being of others. May all beings live in peace, free from greed and hatred.
“You owe the companies nothing. Less than nothing, you especially don’t owe them any courtesy. They owe you. They have re-arranged the world to put themselves in front of you. They never asked for your permission, don’t even start asking for theirs.”—Banksy (via sirmitchell)
To grasp at such naked straws has been utter amusement through the years for him. Trudging towards her like ebbing amber, thick and deliberate, almost ashamed, almost static. He melts, and oozes listless geometry for her to finger. All the sharp angelic angles roar, and she wonders why they still cut.
You question too much.
All angles are right in this world.
l still actually read books, never once smoked k2, I enjoy the New Yorker for the comics mostly, successfully watched FLCL over 50 times, maintains massive blood clot for brain, I’m a naive fool, My friends and I are insane