Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.
i've choked on my words for far too long
It's not the length of life, but the depth.
This is my mind, itβs not supposed to make sense.
Where Sarcasm Gets Drunk and Lets Its Hair Down
Shining the light of truth on delusion
Researching, investigating, and writing about the paranormal.
You either get it... or you don't.
Inky blackness, a yawning void ~
"Eye Fly High"
A weekly series edited by Jena Schwartz
Read. Ingest the words. Like little blue pills, they will affect you.
the stories behind the pictures, and vice versa
Just my thoughts for all to behold
FOR DISCERNING READERS
π Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. π
A baking and dessert blog.
Writer, Tarot Reader, Designer
a little bit of this and a little bit of that
Seeking Beauty Beyond the Scars
The home of Emma O'Brien
The musings of a scorpion who would have been an eagle
I blog now. I know, I can't believe it either.
..whats that song? put your hands in the hands of the man who….
well…this just turned me inside out…
. . .stilled the water. I remember listening to that on 8-track in my parents van, sung by the incomparable Loretta Lynn. π
When I read it this morning it kind of kicked me in the gut, so I had to share. Quite prophetic, huh?
..you know I thought those were the words. I just didnt want to look stupid. eight tracks…those were the days…i hada car with a player!! HA!
oh…honey..it aint prophetic…its HOT!
I really like that one. Thanks for sharing.