tastefullyoffensive:

Artist Chris McMahon buys other people’s landscape paintings at thrift stores and puts monsters in them.

Previously: Artist Repaints His Own Childhood Drawings

(via perksofbeingabrazilian)

Anonymous said: Do you have any poems about loneliness and or dealing with high school? I think you are wonderful

lora-mathis:

Aw, thanks!

The first time you kissed me,
you asked: “Is this what love’s supposed to taste like?”
I giggled and bit “yes” into your bottom lip,
even though I had no idea.

I was only fifteen,
trying to pass for twenty,
with a baby face that you couldn’t possibly
have been fooled by.

Still,
when I told you my real age,
you went quiet and stood in the corner for long enough
that I felt like I had grown into someone
you could undress without guilt.
“We can’t do this,” you said, your hands in my hair.
In reply, I left a purple bruise on your neck
in the shape of “I know.”

At school, my friends ask me if the best part about
loving you is knowing someone who can buy me alcohol.
I tell them that all of your kisses taste like wine,
so I have no need for it.

When I relay this story to you in the parking lot,
you laugh and let me take a gulp of you,
big enough that I’m drunk for the night.

No, the best part about loving you
is that you showed me parts of my body
that I didn’t even know existed.
The best part about loving you is that
you took me home to meet your mother,
even though she thought I was
an illegitimate child that you’d hid from her.
The best part about loving you is that
I never want to stop,
even though each time I feel my raw cheeks
after kissing your beard-covered mouth
on the playground,
I know I should.

Your 30th birthday fell on the same day as my 15th.
When I went shopping for your gift,
I stood in the men’s section
for hours after my mother dropped me off,
staring at the things you were supposed to want.
I saw no place for my baby fat amongst
pressed slacks and shirts.
The sales lady asked me if I was lost,
checked her calendar and said: father’s day is in three months, hun.
I wanted to scream that age was just a number,
that I was old enough to know better
but could not imagine knowing a love any better than you.
I wondered on which of my birthdays I would be told
I was now capable of understanding love.
If wondered if you would be able to find anything
close to it in the “young adult’s” section.

"You always looked good in red," I said,
as I straightened the tie I’d decided on.
But I wanted you to look good in me,
to not appear like a monster holding me down in bed.
I did not want my friends to think our love was “dirty”
or for teachers to study me because they had “heard the rumors.”

When I convinced myself that the amount I felt for you
was too much to be disputed,
I got sloppy and
forgot to delete your texts.
“I love you?”
“My tongue still tastes you?!”
“I can’t feel without you beside me??!”,
my mom screamed as I lay crying.

The last time I saw you,
you were tense in your seat,
separated from me our lawyers and
my mother’s protective arm.
“Confess your guilt”, your lawyer urged.
“No one will give you any sympathy.”

But on the stand you looked at me and said:
she was half my age,
but I have no regrets in making her half of me.

You’re The Monster Under My Bed That My Mom Keeps Checking For | Lora Mathis (via soggypoetry)

Edited/extended this at the urge of a close, wonderful friend. (via soggypoetry)

(Source: lora-mathis, via lora-mathis)

I sit in my room till 3 a.m.
and browse through stacks of books,
looking for some answers.
It’s been two days since I slept.
I’m starting to get dizzy even
when I’m sitting down.

I read poetry, non-fiction,
autobiographies, and short stories.
I scan an advice column six times over.
I flip through newspapers and grocery lists,
but nothing says what I want it to.

I stand up.
My head topples to the ground.
I wake up on my bedroom floor,
with my hands gripping a stack of books.

I do this,
one day
two days
three days
four days,
until I decide to put off
searching for just a second.
I pick up a notebook.
I get myself a pen.
I stare at it blankly
for one minute
two minutes
three minutes
four minutes,
then write:

Something tells me
if I want my questions
answered by what I’ve read,
I’m going to have to
write it myself.

Did You Think It Was Going To Be Easy? | Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)

basedgosh:

when you meet a bunch of relatives who claim to remember you
image

(Source: basedgosh, via hatin)

so-personal:

everything personal♡

so-personal:

everything personal♡

(Source: scribbles-on-pictures)

ok please go lock yourself in a bathroom because you are sO FULL OF SHIT

sheerdisneymagic:

This is approximately when Stitch realized he wanted a family (◕‿◕✿)

(via pabu-the-pygmy-puff)

twotwentyonebbakerst:

hit-it-and-quidditch:

allthingshyper:

ionosphere-negate:

le-claire-de-lune:

crowdog66:

smellslikegirlriot:

If you are reading this, thank this woman. Her name is Grace Hopper, and she is one of the most under appreciated computer scientists ever. You think Gates and Jobs were cool? THIS WOMAN WORKED ON COMPUTERS WHEN THEY TOOK UP ROOMS. She invented the first compiler, which is a program that translates a computer language like Java or C++ into machine code, called assembly, that can be read by a processor. Every single program you use, every OS and server, was made possible by her first compiler.

Spread the word! (Although I’ll bet there are still some dudebros out there who’ll claim she’s a “fake geek”…)

Favorite fact: She coined the term “debugging” when they had to remove an moth (an actual, living moth) that had gotten trapped in the Mark II computer at Harvard University in 1947. While referring to glitches as bugs existed before, she brought the term into popularity. 

She also got the trend of personal computers going with her suggestion to the DoD to use more smaller units rather than one big one.

Please explain to me why I never knew about her before?

you know why

they also have a women in computer science convention named after her every year. this year’s is in phoenix, arizona, in early october, and i urge you to take the opportunity to go, if possible. my university, for example, granted scholarships for some students who applied to go, all expenses paid, and many companies and schools do the same.

twotwentyonebbakerst:

hit-it-and-quidditch:

allthingshyper:

ionosphere-negate:

le-claire-de-lune:

crowdog66:

smellslikegirlriot:

If you are reading this, thank this woman. Her name is Grace Hopper, and she is one of the most under appreciated computer scientists ever. You think Gates and Jobs were cool? THIS WOMAN WORKED ON COMPUTERS WHEN THEY TOOK UP ROOMS. She invented the first compiler, which is a program that translates a computer language like Java or C++ into machine code, called assembly, that can be read by a processor. Every single program you use, every OS and server, was made possible by her first compiler.

Spread the word! (Although I’ll bet there are still some dudebros out there who’ll claim she’s a “fake geek”…)

Favorite fact: She coined the term “debugging” when they had to remove an moth (an actual, living moth) that had gotten trapped in the Mark II computer at Harvard University in 1947. While referring to glitches as bugs existed before, she brought the term into popularity. 

She also got the trend of personal computers going with her suggestion to the DoD to use more smaller units rather than one big one.

Please explain to me why I never knew about her before?

you know why

they also have a women in computer science convention named after her every year. this year’s is in phoenix, arizona, in early october, and i urge you to take the opportunity to go, if possible. my university, for example, granted scholarships for some students who applied to go, all expenses paid, and many companies and schools do the same.

(via pabu-the-pygmy-puff)