If you have to ask….probably not. We look like every one else… Read What psychopaths teach us about how to succeed in the Scientific American. In our observation the people who think they’re crazy tend to be sane. It’s the people who insist they are normal that we worry about.
“He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.”
I can’t shake this fever.
Nor do I want to.
The symptoms of our love.
See what you cause.
I can’t get enough.
I can’t live without it.
It’s embedded itself.
Deep within my core.
All I could ever want.
And yet I still want more.
© Katrina Storey 11/22/13
One of my writer friends, whom I adore like no other, gave me the title for this poem. She’s handy like that… she is the go to girl for ideas and book bios! She’s simply magnificent! PJ Perryman, you are the sparkle in my knickers!
O’ When Does My Shit Come Together?
by Penelope Jones
O’ as a child we think when I get older…
I’ll be president, an astronaut, a doctor, or maybe a writer?
When we get older we’ll change the world,
cure cancer, and create new adventures.
Does that mean I’ve arrived and failed?
My life isn’t a bowl of cherries,
it isn’t a walk in the park,
nor can I say… I’m finished.
Shit!My dreams are not complete,
my adventures not fulfilled,
nor have I found world peace!
View original post 47 more words