"achey" poems
I may have achey feet from working
all the live long day.
But I'm grateful for them.
They take my mind off my aching heart. Caused by the curse of adulting and time keeping us apart.
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 7:32 PM UTC
slept and soaked
the sabbath Saturday away.
the body, achey breaky,
cranked and croaked,
slewed by a slew of common miscreants.
one, a stitch in my side,
feeling like someone's inside,
wanting to be born, feet first,
coming out the side of my chest,
instead of my ******
so,
promised poems and bills to pay,
put aside for a more poetic bill paying day.
awoke once near midday,
an unusual wake up call,
my nostrils do attend,
when the honey odors of
cinnamon and vanilla invade
the french shores of my subconscious.
I love three things French:
the elegance of their language grande,
their frenchified fries and frenchified toast.
was fed some french toast,
bathed in vanilla and cinnamon,
thus drugged,
went back to bed again.
as I drifted off for the third time today,
heard the woman dramatic say:
"must have, must have,"
two words that I from my past,
consider a curse,
a grave phrase of choice of my ex-wife,
her way of saying I didn't measure up.
*must have
paprika
to roast your chicken
for Sunday dinner.*
relieved beyond measure,
as I to dreamless sleep dispatched,
vague recall a poem forming about the
spices in my life.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
right between the place of being perfectly okay, stable,
and content and ripping at ever seam, loose at the hinges
you can see that the stitches are coming apart and
the heart doesn't want to beat anymore
I was born here
between the lines of need it I need you and that
wouldn't be good for me and neither are you
the space between total distance and I miss
the word baby so much that I feel achey
I want to yell and I want to scream but
my mouth is shut, I know there are reasons why I'm here
whether it be bad karma or the way the world turns and
if there isn't then **** whatever card I drew out of the deck
once I said
excuse me father for I have sinned
because I didn't know how to pray so I begged for
forgiveness until my ego bled reasons that I needed
to be alone but I'd rather be excused then forgiven
because I'm good at excuses and I'm still waiting
around for the moment where I forgive you
I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE.
WHEN WILL THE SKY STOP FADING
TO SUCH A DARK BLUE THAT I HAVE
TO TURN MY BRIGHTS ON AT 4 PM
WHEN WILL THIS CITY WAKE UP ONE
MORNING WHEN IT'S NOT EXHAUSTED
AND HUNGOVER ON IT'S LACK OF OXYGEN
WHEN WILL THE BIRDS SONG
BECOME OUR WAKE UP CALL
WHEN WILL THE LEASH COME OFF
WHEN WILL THE WORLD SPIN ON IT'S OWN FREE WILL
AND WHEN WILL I STAND ON MY OWN TWO FEET
I DON'T WANT THIS, I NEVER WANTED THIS
I GOT STUCK INTO BEING SOMEONE
I AM NOT COMFORTABLE WITH
BUT I WANT TO BE
I WANT TO BE SO BAD
IF ONLY YOU KNEW HOW MUCH EFFORT I PUT
IN ASKING THE GRASS TO GROW FOR ME
IT NEVER DOES
IF ONLY YOU FELT HOW MANY TIMES I ASKED
GOD TO TAKE AWAY THE FEELINGS
TAKE AWAY THE KNOWLEDGE
TAKE AWAY WHAT I NOW UNDERSTAND
LEAVE ME BLIND AND IN THE DARK BEFORE
YOU LEAVE ME SOMEONE WHO WILL NOT BE
ACCEPTED BY ANYONE, ESPECIALLY HERSELF
IF ONLY YOU KNEW HOW MANY TIMES I BEGGED
EVERYBODY TO STOP STARING AT ME
I'M IN A ROOM ALONE BUT ALL I CAN FEEL IS EYES
AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO STOP BEING ME
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
This morning I woke up with my hand hurting again.
I wake up most mornings with an ache of some sort,
whether it be physically or emotionally.
I thought, not for the first time, about how
I'm too young for this.
See, I was born into this life with a prescription for
pills written into my ribs.
I've been popping them since before I knew what
they meant, or how they destroy my body.
I haven't always been this achey, but I have always
had something wrong with me.
Anxiety stole my childhood, left me running for the
glowing exit sign that is the end of my life.
And I'm not saying I didn't have a good childhood,
but I grew up fearing that toothpaste would **** me
if I accidentally swallowed too much of it.
I still reap the consquences of anxiety to this day.
I grew up with knee problems and anxiety,
grew into depression and now I have to take pills
just to feel normal again.
And sometimes it doesn't work.
See, some days I feel like a regular kid.
I wake up, go to school, come back to family where
I don't have to wonder if they love me or not.
On these days I feel like I can accomplish anything.
I feel like the world is in my hands and all I have to do
is try.
Other days I'm a walking suicide note.
My bed is quick sand, drawing me further and further
into the black that I can't find my way out of.
There's a tornado sending my thoughts into a spiral
and I'm too dizzy to fix this.
When you're this sad, there is no such thing as a
"minor inconvenience."
Everything that stands in the way, small as it may be,
is another reason on my ever growing list of why
I shouldn't be here.
I stayed up until 6 o'clock this morning wondering
why I haven't signed my name on the goodbye note yet.
I didn't reach out to anyone but I still cried when no
one noticed how broken I am.
But why would anyone notice in the first place?
Why would anyone care?
This morning I woke up with my hand hurting again.
As I was taking my daily pills, I wondered, not for the
first time,
If I took enough pain pills, would it cure my aching
soul, too?
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 9:33 PM UTC
there's a pimple on my left cheekbone
and one of my brows is plucked
a little thinner than the other.
the only makeup on my face
is the black on my eyelashes
my eyes
burst
green.
my mouth (my rosebud mouth, my mother
smiles) like a slightly opened
slightly troubled
bow.
my brow is furrowed
my eyes are searching
one of my ring-and-bracelet hands
holds back my hair (short)
and my elbow
rests.
i look at myself,
head-tilting, quick-sketching
the curves of my features
in a single line of ultra-fine Sharpie.
what you see is what you get.
my eyes frown into themselves
through the mirror.
i am long
i am lanky
i am lovely.
i am a little lost
and very found
i am angsty
i am achey
i am laughing
i am me -
if you only look at yourself for a second
you tend to miss
how beautiful you are.
it isn't my vanity.
it's the universal, and most unbelieved
truth.
i brush back my hair
and i puff my cheeks out.
i sigh, and i look at myself
in the cheap mirrors set out
on the art-room tables.
"not bad," i say to the single line of ultra-fine Sharpie-version of my face.
and it isn't.
even though
i left out the pimple.
Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 5:17 PM UTC
My skin is warm
My bones are achey
Wrapped in blankets
Yet I'm still shaking
My head is pounding
My throat is sore
As I lie here ailing
My body's at war
My nose is running
Where to, I'm not sure
As I scour the internet
To find a quick cure
My vision is hazy
As I scroll through my options
Should I really trust random
Internet users' concoctions?
The coughing has started
I've just held back a sneeze
I've got to do something
Before I'm riddled with disease
I'll mix these ingredients
Then down them without attest
If this doesn't work out
At least I tried my best
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC
Whether it's your father, your mother, your friend or your lover,
an enemy, a stranger or me.
Whether you feel achey neglect or sweet safety.
Love, regret or conversationality.
Relationships are messy,
completely captured by complexity.
Oh what it would be to sit down face to face,
have mind, body and soul empathically trade place.
You'll feel what I've felt since the day we first met
and know you're a treasure I'll never forget.
I'll finally see what's been hidden from me,
the swirling storms of emotional mystery.
Love me or hate me, I'll survive and adapt, uncertainty is the death of me when my chemicals react.
But there it is. A mess of lies.
Lying to others, lying to ourselves,
the truth lies dusty under beds and on shelves.
A mess of truths that we cannot speak but strongly feel.
So simple and real,
that we can't comprehend,
let alone share with a lover or friend.
Fire, water, food and shelter.
A sad life bereft of love,
to take away your very breath,
but all you need is love...
Until you starve to death.
- Kevin Schvaneveldt
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
He laid out some towels
She set a bucket right on top
The outside pitter patter
Echoed closely by drip drop
She plopped down on the couch and said
“I hate our leaky roof…”
He cozied up right next to her
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute!”
The dog had left a pungent gift
Spread out across the floor
They tied cloth over their noses
Prepared to go to war
They scrubbed the ground on hands and knees
He, unusually mute
She poked his side with smiling eyes
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute!”
Baby two cried till blue
Every other hour
And baby one learned to run
Too young for such a power
People seemed to judge and stare
Her cheeks turned rosy red
He raised his voice, ignoring glares
“It’s cute! We’re newlyweds!”
She zipped up the dress
He escorted down the aisle
And gave away his baby girl
His heart in full denial
The newfound silence of their home
Was echoed in his head
She played their own first dance song
“It’s cute, we’re newlyweds”
Years spilled by, the kids had kids
Less heed was paid to clocks
Days now passed in reading chairs
With simple meals and long walks
They shuffled down the sidewalk
At a careful, measured pace
Their scooting right in sync,
A peculiar kind of grace
She paused to rub her fingers
His hands were also wrung
She raised her deep-set eyes to his
“Do you ever miss when we were young?”
His wrinkles seemed to lengthen
As a gleam came to his eye
His mind replaying memories
Of leaky roofs and a youthful bride
Then he looked at the woman beside him
Drooped by the weight of long life
And for a moment he stayed silent
Overwhelmed by his beautiful wife...
“I don’t miss when we were young
Though time has worn us down
The love I had for you back then
Cannot compare to now
I’ll brave a thousand achey bones
Just to take slow walks with you.
Besides,” he took her hand in his
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute.”
Aug 14, 2025
Aug 14, 2025 at 12:08 AM UTC
This a very strange and odd feeling..
Dead exhausted..
Sleep deprived for a week...
Having a nasty migraine..
A bad tummy and aches and pains...
But for some inexplicable reason...
I am in the mood of dancing..
Dancing like i used to do..
Dancing like i danced way back ....
I’m driving home after a horrible n busy night...
I ought to be looking like the dead...
My eyes are heavy...
Can’t see the road ahead..
But for some inexplicable reason ..
I’m feeling like dancing..
I’m blasting loud music in the car..
I’m dancing and driving..
Don’t think i should be doing so..
But I’m dancing like i did way back..
Before i put in the key to my front door..
Backpack , eyes. And feet all heavy and sore...
I connect my phone to the Bluetooth..
On it comes blasting the beats that move my feet...
I ought to be collapsing in bed..
Tired and weary..
But for some inexplicable reason..
I’m stripping and dancing..
To the loud music I’m blasting..
The music is going on non stop..
I’m playing it on repeat
My body, soul and my feet have a rhythm..
Making me feel complete...
I’m still moving, i can’t seem to stop..
I am feeling like both death and life..
I can’t explain it.. my soul is filled with jive..
Oh what a vibe!!
And for some inexplicable reason..
I’m dancing and dancing like my bones aren’t old and weary..
dancing like I’m not all fat and heavy
I’m dancing like i used to way back
Moving from the front to the back
Winding the waist like its not old and achey
The shoulders are rolling and groovy
Yes I’m dancing .. like we did way back
Yes I’m back
Gotten my groove back
Almost forgot i still have all that
Almost forgot what it felt like
To dance like i did way back
I’m still dancing..
Better than i did way back
Oh yes I’m back
So is the rythm and the groove
My soul is renewed
I’m both old and new
Dancing like we did way back
Dancing more than i did way back
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 5:27 AM UTC
taking government loans, parental guidelines
and flashy dress-skirts made this life unfact
and unfiction. Lost in the disabled returns on
tax dividends, the world kept calling your name.
“Rise up and be born with me, brother” Pablo
Neruda inclined-- *“Give me your hand from the deep
Zone seeded by your sorrow.”* it all it all it all ached,
an abyss of patience with nothing-- a droplet of sidelined
coffee given sentience with ingestion-- all the banal all
the mundane all the flowing rock-face moments so
presented by society-- in my heart of hearts, in my mind
of minds, in my eye of eyes, in my neck of necks, I found pain....
the ache of achey betrayal and the ache of achey loss. In this
pain we find repreive from Pollyanna-- reprieve from the false
Gods of Evil, the Devil Within your Ex-Girlfriend-- the reason
she let his ******** inside. Through all the latency-- through
starving streetless sleepless evenings-turned-to-nights I could
see death within the sliver of a flashlight beam.. telling me to
take the life or leave the life but never in-between-- telling me
the pain was part and parcel to the ecstasy of faith and resurrection--
screaming “FLATLINED IF YOU WANT, FASTLINED IN YOU
WANT, SIDELINED IF YOU WANT, STREETLIGHT IF YOU
WANT” and throughout this evil and this darkness and this nothing
-but-a-flashlight-beam, I hear Neruda--
“Rise up and be born with me, brother.”
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
Summer time comes and it's time for a swim,
Dipping my toe gingerly in
When your laugh yanks me off my solid ground.
"Stay in the shallow end," I tell myself, remembering our last trip to the pool.
"Dare not to breathe when he pulls you under,
tasting so much like air as he pulls you close,"
Treading water to stay afloat,
Remembering all that lay at your floor,
A Glimmering Treasure Trove
That will too easily become a home.
Surely, I'll get swimmer's heart,
An achey ringing,
In the center of my chest,
The antidote, found in the eyes of
One who could drain the pool
Without Notice.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 3:03 PM UTC
"holy **** it feels like years"
i close my achey eyes and breathe your silhouette.
i smell you, your skin and shampoo and funk,
scents on my pillow become cents in a jar.
i am working hard tonight to become
a mess and alone.
the rain slowed and disappointed me, i hoped
to be washed away.
i hear airplanes and apostrophe,
short of breath and epiphany.
meat-hook and drag me like something worth catching
and carving.
you may eat me alive without ever knowing it.
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 7:14 AM UTC
I loved that achey crane you used to call your neck
I used to passionately kiss that achey crane
maybe massage the middle more
so its 80 year contract with you
could be properly fulfilled
without having to take advantage
of the *******
warranty
again.
******* God and Angels Ltd.
free marketeers who planned our obsolescence.
give me what I paid for
you self-righteous Forbes ******
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
I can see the pain you try and keep within your teeth..
It’s falling out your eyes,
Trailing lines atop the streets.
Why don’t you sit and talk with me,
My honest ears, just let it out.
I’ll keep it to myself,
Your achey words will never touch my mouth.
You see it as a million mountains
that you have to climb,
I try to show you there’s a simple path,
Just one you have to find.
The dam built in your eyes
Is spilling
Same goes for the one built in your mind.
I want to tear it down,
See you free,
See you running wild.
Imagining, I see your teeth are nothing but a cage
For your tongue,
Imagine all these words just rolling off ablaze.
Oh it would be amazing,
Tasting flare from all your fallout.
The plants retract their claims of faith,
The sun, it seems so dull now.
With you around,
Disaster’s but a shrug & we stay northbound.
Mushroom cloud stepper,
Red pepper, here I call out:
“I could always see your wings,
Since we sat, swaying on the swings.
A presence never made me melt the same,
I doubt one ever will again."
Every time I left the grounds
I kept you somewhere in my mind
Yet every time you wound up close to me
I’d hide behind my eyes.
You hadn’t left my mind but my reality
Had changed a lot
A bit of strength had shifted to my shape
& we could finally talk
Time had come to pass
I’m older, bolder, somewhat of an ***
I play guitar throughout the classes
Ashy from the mornings hash.
You asked me “Could I sing along?”
Or maybe I asked you,
Learned that I could Use Somebody,
hopes of getting close with you.
Our voices filling up the room
Fluorescent flowers start to bloom.
I see a supernova,
Open up my eyes,
all I see is you
I’m flashing back to heart attacks
When first graced by your presence
Now I’m living here in song
With you,
I fight to keep my breath in.
Just so I can let it go,
With time and tone, to flow & meet with yours
And form those meteors
Of heart and soul
We rode with no remorse.
Oh maybe I’m infatuated,
Maybe it’s all lust.
Maybe we are meant to be
But just haven’t fallen up yet,
I await your wings,
To show you things,
To grow and know you well.
You may just wait the same as me,
Only time will tell.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
Pass the time
Pass the time
Pass the time
Think of what is not killing you
Let it seep into your skin and let it fill your lungs
Crack your brittle knuckles and pop your achey joints
This is only the beginning
Tie a noose around a tree and let the branch break, just to let yourself know that nature is keeping you alive for a reason
Now think of what is killing you
Let it fill and spill over and under your thoughts
Let it whisper soft meaningless nothings into your ears
Flirt with the idea of crushing a caterpillar just before it blossoms into a butterfly
Let yourself realize that there is beauty in the innocent
Learn that corruption is at every street corner, just begging and pleading for your attention
Pass the time
Pass the time
Pass the time
Give yourself to the wrongdoers
Let your blood bleed dark red onto your favorite t-shirt
Feel knowledgeable and learn consistently
Walk gracefully and fight viciously
There is no bliss in ignorance, just like there is no good in evil
Time is as valuable as diamond
Do not shied yourself from its shine and do not hide in its shadow
When the next opportunity comes, do not pass it
Do not pass the time and do not let it escape you
Breathe in air and exhale fire
Watch the clock like it is your favorite movie, it may just surprise you
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 1:03 AM UTC
everything ached so bad
and i was so heavy
that i felt that if i stepped down to hard,
my kneees would break
and i would melt
into a puddle of unloved and scarred.
ny chest is achey and tight and cold
but my throat is warm and constricting
around my pleas for help.
what words do come out
are angry and emotional
when i cried it was mostly out of deperation.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Ache
Ache
Aches.
Then come the shakes.
Struck in the side
Pelvis
And the face.
Loose fist,
Tight grip,
Eyes closed,
Teeth stripped.
Comatose come down.
Good intentions preceded
Translucent affections.
Ache
Ache
Achey.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Robotics Class,
I never took it,
But I'm sure glad you did,
It left you crooked,
Achey & Weird,
When we kissed it was copper mixed,
With gasoline tears,
Hearts don't break even,
They don't break at all,
Just shrivel up & die,
Until the next one comes along,
I'm not sure if you're replaceable.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
soar peachy
repulsive boy
a luscious hell
his drunk urge whispering sordid and frantic
sweet thing sucker
bare *****
lover
lather the sky pink
and watch this sea trudge to its feet
all storm and skin
our sleep revealed in ***** tongues
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
the anti-siren alarm song
collapses the dimensions of the oneiric realm,
fidgeting infinitesimally,
the tangled engine of acidic tubes
combusts last nights pepperoni bacon chorizo pizza
all of sparta trembles
stalagmites shake loose and dust the bedclothes,
cemented eye-lashes decalcify and split,
as two stumbling gargantuan steps
off the promontory of your bed
lead an unguided hand to the light-switch
the florescent hum gnaws at you
a singular parameter in the speaking mind's running mouth
“caffeinate me”
a hill, no, a mountain, no, a sheer abyss
'the stairs', a godly ascent
an ascent for winged creatures of light
creatures with legs for arms, zeppelin-like centipedes
legs whose construct are Dalían,
nightmarish vaulting apparatuses,
whose step is a bound and whose bound is a flight,
as if all of the thirteen foot-tall steps become cliffsides
and all of the cliffsides become interdimensional worm-holes
as the distance between two mustard seeds grows
and exceeds the circumference of the universal ellipse
we see our premonitions are of infinite potentiality.
resignedly, we take the first step
the next twelve follow succinctly.
we reach the ochre chamber of caffeine
only to be halted by a question
a sempiternal question,
a question of mythic, unverifiable stature
a plaguing question,
a question rooted
in our achey-breaky hearts and nigh-arthritic bones,
rooted in the seeping pathos
of our ritualized morning zombie-shuffle:
but it doesn't get asked today, we drink coffee
the world is right-side up again.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC
i don't want this to have taught me the ways
and reasons as to why i should grow cold
if anything, i want to look at this cavernous thing
inside of me that you left behind and think:
i know how to love. i know how to love so much.
and for you, it was not enough.
or it was too much.
i'm not sure.
but i allowed myself to see myself
through loving you
and no i don't think thats unhealthy
i have learned about the love that lies in me
i know that it will pick itself up,
brush off all this disappointment,
and twice tasted hurt
and achey remembrances
and say to itself, "you are so good,
your love is so good."
monday 10:19 p.m. november.3.2014
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
The thunder rumbles in sore throats
and rivers of yellow speak of high hopes
for the people who plant flowers and complain to pollen
the earth will give you too many chances to worry about sunflowers
because drizzles help
until there you are,
achey muscles and grey face ******* on Ricola
crossing a street to go to work
and how does it happen to be that the first day of rain in a month comes on the day you lose your sunshine
Well today the sun came in a bottle of Tropicana
and tomorrow I will count the losses of those who just can’t take one rainy day
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
chugging bile and liquor closed eyes smell the innards of a joint wrapped in oilslicked stain shoveling sugar thrice processed into vocal chords left silenced but for the coughing up of shriveled lungs set ablaze to ease the twitching triggered by the mistress doused in white who scaffolds into crumbling nasal caverns to numb the brain that dreams of god in guilty refrain and whips thorny obedience to words siphoned through ghosts of men and obedience to the inflated heads of state and corporate banks who play Skinnard's game and always win millions of yes-men nodding their heads in addiction to artificial green leaves printed with blood and even lovers twirling passion in their beds have their eyes squeezed shut clutching at darkness slick and disappearing at the touch of pulsing fingertips racing to bury themselves in skin and forget the achey organs that lay waiting within weary and smothered from covering up thoughts too sharp to breathe in...
--it's all hide and seek.
running and running and running
from bare and open
vulnerability
shrouded underneath
layers
of reflected identities
and neuro-chemistry
and material fortresses
and snarled teeth
and synthetic bliss
wrapped in bitter bumblebees.
don't you think it's time you swallowed
the wince it takes
to glimpse your fear's shadows?
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
you says things to me
that always catch me off my guard,
like the other day when we were in your bed,
and you told me i was "beautiful."
and i told you i couldn't respond,
or even think of something to say,
to the wonderful compliment you gave me.
but that one time that you told me,
you thought i was how a girl should be,
your idea of a girl atleast,
i went home that night and i wanted to die.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
I want to write about how much I love you;
how your voice sounds like the ambient led zeppelin tunes that blanket my body in goosebumps
or how your olive green eyes have a ring of tree bark brown that gaze at me like I’m a queen
Maybe it’s how you treat me like a queen, you caress my skin like it’s made of gold and silver
You act as if all you wish to do is place me on a throne made of lilacs and constellations
Because you know how much I love flowers and how fascinated I am with the endless night sky
The way you make my heart feel heavy like mount everest is sitting on my chest is jaw dropping
With your lips dripping of honey as you tell me how much you love me
But you refuse to believe me when I say, you too are worthy.
You have to realize in my aquamarine eyes you are the only one I see
Even with thick grey smoke floating through the air from our cheap cigarettes every inhale is a breathe of fresh air when I am next to you.
I don’t know how else to tell you how much I care for you, but please know you are worth so much more than couch hopping and self reliance.
You can depend on me at 3 am when you’re restless and your eyes refuse to shut
You can depend on me to rub your back when it’s achey and sore,
You can depend on me to just be there when you need someone to hold.
I am not obligating you to do the same, and I understand I don’t need to beg,
because behind every loyal queen, is her king.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC