What’s worse than finding a worm in your apple?
Finding half a worm… buried, his mourning family only just leaving the scene of his funeral after his gory death at the hands of some sick killer who had torn him in half, and now you have grossly disinterred him from his final rest, wrenching his tattered, mutilated remains from the ground and scattering them across the graveyard for his loving children to stare at in horror and the knowledge that this is a sight they will never truly forget, the memory of their father’s defiled remains splattered over them will follow them across every ocean and every year to stamp itself indelibly on any small achievement or triumph they may ever make, rank with the scent of utter corruption and injustice, the sickening entropy and downward turn of the universe. 

725 notes • 2:28 PM

nicholasmax:

"Deadwood" Nicholas Scarpinato. Glass/mixed media. Deadwood SD. June. 2013

Mix Media. Photo.

Facebook Instagram

(via elucipher)

" In the end when one is doing philosophy one gets to the point where one would like just to emit an inarticulate sound. "
by Ludwig Wittgenstein

reallyreallyreallytrying:

life hack: u dont have to be a wolf to yell sad noises at the moon

(via femmeamie)

11,173 notes • 9:30 PM
8,349 notes • 3:12 AM

bobschofield:

PETER, THE WOLF, AND THEIR BOAT by Bob Schofield

riannafinch:

colinquinn:

The Revolution Will Not be Televised, Gil Scott Heron

You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.

(Source: thegraveyardpoets)

12,079 Plays • 1:23 PM

(Source: obe, via pajamaben)

bobschofield:

I’m having trouble working or thinking today. I feel so distracted, overturned by sadness and resentment, about people, about my country, about the world.

Feel like I’ve been posting just one thing after another about rage recently, but oh well, such are the fucking times I guess.

I’m hoping writing something about it will clear my head, but I’m not holding my breath.

Read More

eleanorhazard:

hard thoughts of glass prison.
like how many corners.
what would it smell like.
will i ever feel safe from birds.

i dream of my flat hand on glass prison wall.

warm.
i rly want it to be warm.
i rly want it to feel like someone
has been recently crying
next to/against glass prison wall,
and that it is okay to cry.

hope glass prison wall feels like striations.

in car, feeling like teenage tree.
stretched legs.
treacherous night vision.
feeling v aware of tongues.

glass prison taste.
something like charcoal feathers.
and sugar.

what’s wrong w/ me inside glass prison.
is it possible to escape glass prison.
is glass prison forever.
i think of where glass prison would be.
somewhere in Ohio, probably.
my fingers curl against my cheek.

if i could see outside.
if i could see everything.
would it matter if i was in prison.

press my head against car window.
allowing myself a moment to pretend.
but it’s not right.
it’s not as warm as i want it to be.
too dark outside to see everything
i’ve left behind.

(via bobschofield)

OHHNNOOOOOOOO

(Source: murilocpaula, via riannafinch)

" If I am right in supposing ‘now’ is equivalent to ‘simultaneous with this utterance’, then I am able, as we have seen, to reject the notion of an objective ‘now’, the notion that even in past ages when there were perhaps no sentient beings there was nevertheless a moment which was distinguishable as ‘the present’ or ‘now’. "
by J. J. C. Smart, Anthropocentricity of some Temporal Concepts