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Repeated Lessons | rascallythoughts
https://rascallythoughts.wordpress.com/2016/09/25/repeated-lessons
Random rantings on passing thoughts. Labor Day Weekend Musings. Destination Awry →. Failures, repeated failures, are finger posts on the road to achievement. One fails forward towards success. My dreams became numbers dancing in my head to these ridiculous lyrics. “You can surprise all the people in all the stores, counting your change, when you know your fours….4X1 is 4….and so on.”. On September 25, 2016 in Life. Labor Day Weekend Musings. Destination Awry →. Leave a Reply Cancel reply.
rascallythoughts | rascallythoughts
https://rascallythoughts.wordpress.com/author/rascallythoughts
Random rantings on passing thoughts. All I’m asking is for a little respect. Yield to people who have authority. Think about the headlines that have hit media in the past year. We witnessed throughout the country that policemen were targeted as evil and provokers of violence rather than civil leaders who place their very lives in danger every day to protect civilians. Why do we think we shouldn’t yield to their authority? On January 22, 2017 in Life. She didn’t plan to withdraw into this life of addiction.
Destination Awry | rascallythoughts
https://rascallythoughts.wordpress.com/2016/11/13/destination-awry
Random rantings on passing thoughts. All I’m asking is for a little respect →. Her purpose became disposed by the empty container of a pill bottle. She didn’t plan to withdraw into this life of addiction. Her mind was too muddled to even recognize who she had become. A pale face molded with the signs of abuse that outsiders diagnose. A face that society thrusts aside, mistrusts, and labels as a lost cause. Her hunger overcomes anyone who cares or anything that matters. This left her tossed by the wayside.
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Scar Tissue for the Soul | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/2014/08/18/scar-tissue-for-the-soul/comment-page-1
Reassembling myself and possibly others. August 18, 2014. Scar Tissue for the Soul. It hurts to breathe,. I don’t think I can,. It hurts to be who I am. So broken inside,. The ache runs deep,. Memories so faithful they replay in my sleep. I’m worrying my family with all of these tears,. And you’d think I could turn it all off since it has been 5 years. But I can’t and it won’t stop no matter how hard I try,. That space in my heart is so empty ALL OF THE TIME! I give and I give with so much compassion,.
European Laces | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/2016/09/06/european-laces
Reassembling myself and possibly others. September 6, 2016. I feel the crunch of leaves beneath my sneakers. Another year without your thoughts penetrating my walls. Another year without the sound of your voice singing or speaking. Another year I sit by myself and remember a person who was once my world. No one else existed then. No one else mattered. Now I’m older. The days are colder. The nights are weaker without drink in supply…. And I am left to my thoughts at whatever am. I’ll always miss you.
Menthol | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/2016/08/19/menthol
Reassembling myself and possibly others. August 19, 2016. I reach out my hand at night to touch a face I haven’t touched in ages. I smell your cigarette smoke, sweet menthols filling my nostrils and memory. I see you at the end of my bed, smiling calling me “darling.”. Telling me to keep going because you couldn’t. Telling me to keep my head up and to forget the pain. In the middle of the night I think of you and what we became when you left,. Words are my sanctuary and my hell. August 19, 2016.
alabasterann | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/author/alabasterann
Reassembling myself and possibly others. There’s the promise in each and every night of guilt,. Of the emotion, blood and memories spilled. Of apologies brushed from the life, like crumbs,. And the feeling I get when I speak, becoming numb. The blankets make me feel as if I’ll never break free –. The air is thick with thought and I can hear the whispers taunting me. I kick and bite at flashes of what could have been –. Tumbling down the tiers of denial in a spin. Your words were always abrasive,. So many...
Life | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/2016/08/14/life
Reassembling myself and possibly others. August 14, 2016. Lost in a lake of fiery thought,. Would have brought a life jacket, but I forgot. Two paddles are waiting on shit-creek shore,. Oh well, that’s what my hands are for. Climbing and clawing,. Back toward the top. I’ll keep moving until I have to stop. I’m spinning, I’m crawling,. I’m doggy paddling,. I’ll follow you to the end like a baby gosling. I’m strong,. My skin is thick,. Yet I too am weak and can bleed,. I’m young, but I’m wise,.
Take Heart | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/2016/08/04/take-heart
Reassembling myself and possibly others. August 4, 2016. Your heart is as wild as an ornery child, sticky popsicle stained patches in their hand-me-down jeans. Barefoot like Mama hangin’ the wash in North Carolina when the wind was stiff and the air felt like a cozy warm blanket settling you in for the evening with the hum of crickets in the green, green grass. Stubborn like a bull running through the masses, running madly through the towns of Spain and hoping for that patch of earth that screams freedom.
M.I. | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/2016/07/22/m-i
Reassembling myself and possibly others. July 22, 2016. Into the Monsters mouth. Her screams, its screams, become a tangled nest. A nest where mothers have sat cooing and clawing and ripping wings from their offsprings dreams before they were ripe in their mouths. A juicy fruit covered in poison. Plucked from the highest of branches in the most tallest tree in a forest no one will ever actually see. Slumps forward and holds her head in exhaustion, defeat and shame. She was not made for this. July 22, 2016.
A Little Worn | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/2014/12/18/a-little-worn/comment-page-1
Reassembling myself and possibly others. December 18, 2014. I’ll give you my heart,. But it might be torn,. Patched in places —. I’ve fought my battles tooth and nail,. Head held high, win or fail. I’ll hold your hand,. I’ll kiss your lips,. I’ll write your name on the window pane —. With my finger tips. You’re like a summer breeze. In this frosted winter —. Salvation to this lonely sinner. I’ll lie beside you when you’re blue,. And when you feel alone, I’ll sing to you. I’ll give you my heart,.
Hysteria? | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/2016/07/23/hysteria
Reassembling myself and possibly others. July 23, 2016. It takes two steps to rise from my bed,. But I negotiate it all in my head. Will I rise, will I fall? Will I be able to wash my hair in the bathroom stall? Will today hurt a little bit less than it hurt yesterday, will I be on my own? Can I face the light of day? Will I be able to eat, be able to read? Or will other worldly voices fill my head with their greed? I swallow the poisoned apple in my throat that’s been growing since three am.
My Person | alabasterann
https://alabasterann.wordpress.com/2016/07/16/my-person
Reassembling myself and possibly others. July 16, 2016. He’s got two left feet, but the sincerity and strength in his embrace makes up for any dancing flaws. He’s got dark hair, like the nights we spend together, me nestled in the little nook between his neck and shoulder. A spot only I can lie in. His soft hands have a way of gliding across my skin like ink from a pen composing love letters on the palest of papers. He is more than a husband. He’s he tourniquet for a wound that has been opened, shu...
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Rascally Rabbit Rescue
Use the code RASCALLY to get free shipping, and they will give the rescue 10% of your order's total as a donation! Adoptable of the Month! He enjoys horseback riding, long walks on the beach, hiking and Italian food. Okay, maybe not horses, the beach, hiking or Italian, but he is a big fan of grass hay, Critter Cookies, carrots, parsley, and romaine lettuce. He doesn't care for other rabbits or pets, but loves people! He is a cuddler, so much so, that we're shocked he is still with the rescue! Enter your...
rascally rabbotts | A Photo A Day Project
If you’re new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting! I am the luckiest mummy in the whole wide world. Mostly this month we worked on getting into the swing of being back into the school routine and trying to manage afternoon and end of week tiredness. I have been very slack with taking photos of the random moments around … Continue reading →. Australia Day Camping – Flannagan’s Reserve. August was a big month for events and activities. Ruby had her first school sports da...
rascallyrogue (Overkilled by Rabies) - DeviantArt
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rascallythoughts | random rantings on passing thoughts
Random rantings on passing thoughts. Her purpose became disposed by the empty container of a pill bottle. She didn’t plan to withdraw into this life of addiction. Her mind was too muddled to even recognize who she had become. A pale face molded with the signs of abuse that outsiders diagnose. A face that society thrusts aside, mistrusts, and labels as a lost cause. Her hunger overcomes anyone who cares or anything that matters. This appetite gnaws at her heart and suffocates the things she once loved.
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Middot; Submit Something. Middot; Ask us something. Detailing Some of My Least Favorite Days by Allison Maloney. Detailing Some of My Least Favorite Days by Allison Maloney. Peak your head in to voyeur demons with a sense of humor. Middot; 1 year ago. I Will Stab All Of The Sadness by Allison Maloney. I Will Stab All Of The Sadness by Allison Maloney. To commit to being a writer is a slow-drawn suicide laden with suffocating grief. Middot; 1 year ago. Middot; 1 year ago. Middot; 1 year ago.
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IT’S COOL TO CARE. LIFE AT THE SMILING SKULL. RANTS OF A REBELLIOUS REVEREND. The Journalist’s Guide to Post-Grad Career Questions. June 2, 2014. Graduating is a confusing and upsetting time, often jam-packed full of questions from old people. You Were Here Once: Seattle Police Review Cobain Crime Scene. May 5, 2014. Ah, Kurt Cobain: the first man to make us want to cry and come at the same time, preferably in a dirty public bathroom. November 25, 2013. ART – Caleb Cole’s Voyeuristic Empathy. May 6, 2013.
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