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Thoughts on Odysseus (or Penelope, the first Army Wife)
The more I look back to the stories of Odysseus, the more I cant help but to wonder what his wife Penelope in Ithaca must have felt.
Or any of the women really.

Penelope was left with Antcleia and Eurycleia in Ithaca, to have Telemachus without Odysseus.

For twenty years she avoids suitors, raises Telemachus, and...
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flores:
Seriously.
Eff him.
danette:
Hi tongue
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videre:
New art is always welcome even when seen through the mist.
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Pssst.....

www.poisonleavesandappletrees.tumblr.com
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Ever feel like you're burning alive on the insides?
No one can smell it, but you?
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amico:
Isn't that what this is for?
nessy:
hey pretty. What's new in your world? I hope all is well xoxo
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veganjihad:
Good luck with that. Vacation and sick days are a nice plus Along with those health benefits. Don't forget the 401k
thefreddy:
I hope you get it girl. U deserve it
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My land is bare of chattering folk;
the clouds are low along the ridges,
and sweet's the air with curly smoke
from all my burning bridges.
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videre:
Even in war we only burn a bridge as a last resort.
starlastarlove:
hi miss.. how are ya? i miss talking to you kiss
xx
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Remember getting to the bottom of your soul, through the travel of glass after glass after glass of whiskey?
I identify with that with that comfort more than a clear recollection of my actions.
Age has brought me maturity, and maturity has brought me the heavy truth. The truth of what happens after we make our choices. Not to say that I regret. There really...
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zenexistence:
Reckless and passionate are two sides to the same coin. I mean really, how can you be totally and utterly passionate WITHOUT having a solid degree of recklessness (be it mental or physical) involved in the mix?

Mira's right, maturity always brings hindsight because when you're younger and carefree you almost never stop to wonder where you're off to with your choices in the first place. The problem with gaining that the insight that comes with maturity is that you truly feel losses and finalities more deeply because you understand the extent as to how deeply these happenings cut.

Drink after drink was the only way I used to be able to feel anything when I was younger. These days, the more I drink the less I feel and that's utterly fucked, because now, more than ever, I WANT to care.

As for "love" well, it's a four letter word, just like frog or shit or cake; all things I steer way clear of these days.


Just kidding.


I love cake.
inkedbuddhist:
wow can i relate to this.. why do we make life so hard.. so complicated.. is it so we feel alive?? cause why does it make us doubt being so!!

zenexistence.. i love cake too...
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("There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." Ernest Hemingway)

I have these dreams, of those who are dead, or dead to me.
Things play out differently in my head...
I get to reach inside and pull out all the sharp parts, that tear up my insides when I'm alive.
Handing them over to their rightful owners....
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richard_:
Painfully beautiful my friend... Words are my favorites, and you just added quite a few more to the list. kiss
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sometimes growing up, it can get you down

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There is this fear that no one ever means a filthy sound that crawls from their mouth.

I hold so much depth in words, and this world rips that away from me.

Cleaning it's extra teeth with proper nouns and adjectives.

crunch crunch crunch

There is a god to be found in the power of words.
To pound on strings in your heart.
Forming sounds...
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