ONLY HUMAN

mulerone:

Hulk is tired of your shit

(Source: rachel-duncan)

This place feels so empty without you to fill it.
Evidence of our weekend speckles interior and exterior
scattered far and vulnerable
or huddled together for protection
     (like dishes in the sink),
bracing for the inevitable tidying up
and the proof of our time together being washed away
but held in such fragile sway in gray matter.

Oh, but I don’t think there can be gray when it comes to you.
All is bursting with life and technicolor
vibrant and varied and alive
and all of it matters;
especially the matter that makes up you.
I wonder, when we change states,
if I’ll recognize you—
if my atoms will recognize your atoms
and bind together to make new life:
to create some new physical thing
after proof of us is gone.

THE COMING OF SHATNER
by Tyler B. Ruff

THE COMING OF SHATNER

by Tyler B. Ruff


America is the wealthiest nation on Earth, but its people are mainly poor, and poor Americans are urged to hate themselves. Every other nation has folk traditions of men who were poor but extremely wise and virtuous, and therefore more estimable than anyone with power and gold. No such tales are told by American poor. They mock themselves and glorify their betters.
Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five
(via human-voices)

(Source: corgiwhisperer)

For an artist, I sure have some poor penmanship. Hope you (and You) can read my sorry scrawl.

For an artist, I sure have some poor penmanship. Hope you (and You) can read my sorry scrawl.

eBook building frustration.

(Source: danascullys)

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind greeting cards

"Random thoughts for Valentine’s Day, 2004: Today is a holiday invented by greeting card companies to make people feel like crap."

I bet so.

(Source: paralysedbeaver)

I am going to annoy you.
There are going to be days where,
despite my better judgement,
I will insist that I am right
for far too long
and with much too much fervor
for something of so little significance.

There will be days you’ll not think me so clever
or handsome
or charming;
days you will have nothing to do
with my dour moods;
days you’ll want to drag my introversion
screaming from my bones
and force-feed it life by the spoonful
till it warms to your ways
like a gin-happy drunk
and I will want to shut the doors on everything
and sulk in the dark and scribble my soul onto silent paper.

But if that doesn’t scare you

I am also going to be the love of your life.
I am going to put your alarm out of a job
and wake you with morning whispers
and gentle kisses.
There will be days you’ll be too sick to move,
so I’ll bring your recovery to you
with soup and a soft touch
and read you off to sleep.

There will be days you will not feel beautiful
and I will make my eyes your mirror
and show you that in them
reflects the most beautiful woman in the world.
There will be days that world will show up with weapons drawn,
and I will put on my ready armor
and stand between you
and dare it to make a move.

There will be days you will think that too much trouble—
that you are too much trouble—
and I will remind you
with split lip and busted rib
that you are worth it
every cut and bruise and kiss
every day
no matter what that day brings.

I should save such words for wedding vows
but the reality is that every word I say to you
is a promise made to keep.
I’m saying “I will love you tomorrow”
every time I say “Goodnight”
and every time I say “Hello,” I’m saying,
"I am yours for life."

Every day
I fall in love with you
all over again.