Me Researching French So I Can Write My Harrykim Fanfiction Accurately

When I die, bury me not on the rocky road

  For my lifeless body will be fed to crows

  Each bit of skin eaten slowly, day by day

  Until all but my bones have been unclothed.

When I die, bury me not on the mountain high

  For the finest land will be at my view

  The land of which my ancestors grew

  And I am not worthy of such a beautiful sky.

When I die, bury me not where the sand meets the water

  Where the green grass ceases to grow

  For the waves will have me pecked and slaughtered

  Until the God above takes away the watery rows.

When I die, bury me not in the trees of sage

  As branches reach over my ribcage

  Growing vines of spiked long mirth

  And nature takes me into its Earth.

man i love redrawn old paintings

Stanford Pines and his brother Stanley

IF YOUR KIDS HAVE THE EXACT SAME OPINIONS AS YOU, SOCIETY NEVER EVOLVES. if you get angry at your children for having ever so slightly less conservative opinions than you, please realize that if you probably did that yourself, and so did your parents, and so did theirs. if everyone thought the exact same as their parents did hundreds of years ago, we would still be burning people for alleged witchcraft and enslaving people. its really not that awful if your kids are being barely exposed to the "woke agenda" and having more liberal opinions than your generation because, fun fact, that's how society becomes more kind.

me giving relationship advice: communicate or end it

what i want when i say i want walkable cities

sometimes the best movie adaptation of a book is the mid 70s bbc play of the month with less than the bare minimum camera work and shitty quality

~Lovely~

(a poem)

the glory of the morning, to lay flowers across her arms my fingers absentmindedly drumming a soft melody on her shoulder the timing correlates with the swooning beat of my mortal heart, the one which i gifted to her long ago she has mine, and in turn i am lucky enough to have hers she is mine, she is lovely, how i love her i rise to stand and observe my work azaleas trace the side of her frame reaching once again to the wicker basket, i carefully surround her face with cosmos weaving gardenias and jasmine through the tourmaline umber of her hair resisting the urge to comb my hand through, lest i disturb her rest a bolt of raw affection surges through me; lowering myself onto my knees, i press a kiss to her hand she is lovely, how i love her a yellow daffodil is soon tucked behind her left ear, with a pink one mirroring behind her right the enamored sigh that escapes me is one the world has heard thousands of times, but this wont be the last instance in which it occurs interlocking her hand in mine, i place seven violets above her heart her eyes flutter open, content but curious, and i bring my lips to hers how i love her oh, how i love her so

ziggy played guitar with god given ass or whatever the fuck david bowie said

How carefully Your neck had bled

Pierced so bluntly by a dagger

Stepping back, but how You staggered-

Left me mourning for the dead.

The evening that had left me speechless,

For the only words were tears that shed

And us standing under raindrops

Gave the regret for You I had plead.

And in the rain Your hair had curled-

How I saw Your witful eyes.

And how they stared up at me

Like two subconscious pearls; in disguise.

O ! Your Beauty, how it took me

With unearlthy bound divine

For it came, absorbed my mind-

Desire of the most unholy.

Upon the earth Your chest lay bare,

But laced with clover.

Your seraphic veiled body

I only wished I could uncover.

But how much could You resist me ?

Far too much for one to bear.

Yet only with You could I speak of laurels;

Laurels, dancing in the air.

“Come tomorrow,” You had told me.

“For then we shall drink bread and wine.

Tomorrow we let the the living live

Today we let the dead die.”

And how I waited, with bread and wine

Awaiting Your curly hair, Your witfull eyes

Those pearls that tore away what was wise-

Too much I wished You heard my cries.

Alone in the rain, my eyes a sea

But still; I did as You please-

I let the living take the dead

And let the dead take me.

thinking about how amazing life would be if i could play bar chords