Good friends help you heal in feet instead of inches.

THIS IS JESUS, KING OF THE JEWS, it read
The Lamb's sweet blood spilled all across the sand
The Morning Light, the Son of God now dead
Great holy shepherd slain by rome's demand.
And there entombed and guarded with great care
The savior lay for three immortal days,
While fishermen and doctors found despair,
He who conquers death, dread sin forays.
And on that easter morn the women found
Their teacher was no longer in the ground
"Why do you seek the living '**** the dead?"
Sweet Jesus rose to life in dying's stead.

Die publicly.
Be buried.
Stay buried.

Rise, and defeat sin.


only applies to the true Son

Parading through Jerus'lem's holy way
Two criminals and one redeemer king
Struggled through the horde, indignant fray
To hill of Skulls, their judgment for to bring.
The sand burned coarse as fire on bloodied skin,
As holy muscles strained to lift the tree,
But ev'n more weight added from our sin,
Upon the shoulders of the precious He. But as they reached pained blessed Calvary's peak,
And air eluded His life-giving lungs,
He lost his life with one great final shriek,
And perm'nent placed his name on watcher's tongues.
He drank the cup of wrath, and tore the veil,
So forever we'd delight in Good Friday's tale.

My glasses got in the way.
They hit her right on the nose.
That's okay, at this point I wasn't seeing straight anyway.
The clock says it's 2:17. Sure. Whatever you feel like.
I just remember soft. We were both so exhausted at the end of the semester, it was late, everything was gentle.  
We were on her bed. Don't judge me, it wasn't my choice. It already happened, so there's no point in interjecting now.
It wasn't very responsible. It wasn't even that great of a kiss.  But it was sweet. It was pure and we both believed it at that moment.

Once in every man's life,
He should be brought to his knees by a beautiful woman.
She should level him. She should hypnotize him, and warp him with her wit beyond recognition. She should give him hope, and then break him.
She should enchant him with her charm. And then curse him with reality.
Her departure should rock him to his core. It should shock him. It should send him reeling for weeks and months after the fact. It should bring up insecurity he had no idea was there.

It should be a mandatory part of becoming a man. A rite of passage that shows him he has no rights to have. If he is broken, he will not break by his own volition. If she is cold, to another he will be warm. He will have no pride or defenses left. He will protect, he will pursue, and he will come to her rescue because he will know.

He will understand his own pain and never wish it upon another. Every man must be destroyed.

To the English-speaking people of earth:

When you speak of new year's, do not mention resolutions.

We need to make up our **** minds about what we want: a beginning, or an end? How can something you just started be resolved already?

I know it's all in the wording, that it's YOUR resolve as a person we're talking about, but I think we're doing ourselves a disservice with this syntax.

I have no resolutions for this new year. My resolutions are gone, done with, vanished, they have already passed into the great and vast "past". You can have my resolutions.

As for me I'll hang onto my goals, my wishes, my aspirations for what this next cycle of days and weeks and months will bring.