“Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem And he call it “Chops” because that was the name of his dog And that’s what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and a gold star And his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his aunts That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo And let them sing on the bus And his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hair And his mother and father kissed a lot And the girl around the corner sent him a Valentine signed with a row of X’s and he had to ask his father what the X’s meant And his father always tucked him in bed at night And was always there to do it Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem And he called it “Autumn” because that was the name of the season And that’s what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearly And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of its new paint And kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigars And left butts on the pews And sometimes they would burn holes That was the year his sister got glasses with thick lenses and black frames And the girl around the corner laughed when he asked her to go see Santa Claus And the kids told him why his mother and father kissed a lot And his father never tucked him in at night And his father got mad when he cried for him to do it Once on a paper torn from his notebook he wrote a poem And called it “Innocence: A Question” because that was the question about his girl And that’s what it was all about And his professor gave him an A and a strange steady look And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because he never showed her And that was the year Father Tracy died And he forgot how the end of the Apostle’s Creed went And he caught his sister making out on the back porch And his mother and father never kissed or even talked And the girl around the corner wore too much makeup That made him cough when he kissed her but he kissed her anyway because that was the thing to do And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed his father snoring loudly That’s why on the back of a brown paper bag he tried another poem And he called it “Absolutely Nothing” Because that’s what it was really all about And he gave himself an A and a slash on each damned wrist And he hung it on the bathroom door because this time he didn’t think he could reach the kitchen”
bluestockingcouture:

Alexander McQueen.
🌳🌳❤❤#recoleta #villagerecoleta #trees #nature
feedmyaddictionnow:

kingofwesteros:

Publicity done right in an anti-rape campaign: double-page spread, pages glued to one another. After the reader forcefully separates them, the image above is revealed with the caption “if you have to use force, it’s rape”.

THIS IS BRILLIANT
“This is the rape joke: My best friend was four years old the first time his father came into his room at midnight and tore out his throat. He still has days when I cannot hold him because the memory of a bleeding trachea haunts his doorway. He has not been home for the holidays in many years, but – even now – hands are seen as weapons. This is the rape joke: I have been told by more than twenty people that they have been raped. To all of them, I asked where the rapist was. From none of them, I heard ‘jail.’ This is the rape joke: Once my brother told me that I was so ugly, I would be a virgin forever. Unless someone raped me. But even they wouldn’t come back for seconds. This is the rape joke: I believed him. This is the rape joke: I now look at every woman on the street and wonder if the space between her legs is a crime scene, surrounded by ripped caution tape. The statistics tell me that this is so common that I will never be in a room that does not contain a survivor. Not even if I am in that room alone. This is the rape joke: I was thirteen years old, and he was supposed to be just a friend. This is the rape joke: When his older brother came home, the boy pulled away. He wiped the tears from my face and said ‘we should do this again some time.’ This is the rape joke: When I finally told my parents, they asked what I had been wearing. This is the rape joke: I had been wearing my innocence. My trust. I had worn the love I held for humanity and expected to be treated well. I had never been taught that I would be that girl, the one who keeps a mine of secrets between her legs – that girl was the slut. I wasn’t supposed to be breakable. What had I been wearing? I wore the rape joke, then I became it.”