Bled Out Onto a Page

Feel. Release. Heal.

2 notes

Back in the 80s when Spider-Man married Mary Jane, Marvel had a real life ceremony to commemorate the occasion.  This is a picture from said event.  Let’s look at the guests in attendance.  There’s Hulk and Captain America on the left; Stan Lee officiating in the middle; and even his Amazing Friends Iceman and Firestar showed up.  But wait a second…who is that at the far right?  Why, it’s the Green Goblin.  Who better to celebrate your nuptials than the villain who chucked your old girlfriend off a bridge and caused you to play a part in her demise?  Yup, nothing can go wrong there.

Back in the 80s when Spider-Man married Mary Jane, Marvel had a real life ceremony to commemorate the occasion. This is a picture from said event. Let’s look at the guests in attendance. There’s Hulk and Captain America on the left; Stan Lee officiating in the middle; and even his Amazing Friends Iceman and Firestar showed up. But wait a second…who is that at the far right? Why, it’s the Green Goblin. Who better to celebrate your nuptials than the villain who chucked your old girlfriend off a bridge and caused you to play a part in her demise? Yup, nothing can go wrong there.

17 notes

feel-release-heal:

I sink my teeth
Deep into my tongue
When my mouth
Fills with blood
I’ll spit crimson
Into their faces
Which will become stained
With all the words
I could never say.

Reblogging this already because it’s some kinda brilliant and I want as many people to see it as possible.

Filed under poem poetry spilled ink

4 notes

I was supposed to get off at 4:30, but my boss asked me to stay until 7, making it an even 10 hour shift. This was heartbreaking, because it took away the only 2 hours I’ll get to myself for two whole weeks.

Man, I even had it all planned out. I was gonna buy some fake blood in order to make a photo which accompanied the poem I posted this morning; then get good and stoned before heading out onto the town.

Nope, all shot to shit.

Instead I got home, dressed as hurriedly as possible, tried to rush the conversation with her father and smoked cannabis out in the alley while dealing with no fewer than three panhandlers before hiding out in Starbucks.

I’m so fucking tired, you guys.

17 notes

I sink my teeth
Deep into my tongue
When my mouth
Fills with blood
I’ll spit crimson
Into their faces
Which will become stained
With all the words
I could never say.

Filed under poetry poem spilled ink

3 notes

Trying to successfully manage more than one social network is exhausting. Jesus Christ, I don’t know how you kids do it.

4 notes

It’s starting to feel like
Everything
I say or do
Is wrong.
And yes
I know you feel
That way too.
So for once
Why don’t we
Just clean up
The fucking eggshells.

Filed under poem poetry spilled ink