On my first trip into Creedmoor State Hospital in 2006, on the pigeon-poop-saturated 4th floor of Building 25, I came across the faint hints of some patient art that had been painted over with pink paint. With my fingernails, I scraped away a little more and saw that, indeed, there was a mural hidden under the paint. On my next trip, I brought some steel wool pads and proceeded to lightly run them over the pink paint until this beautiful image - presumably painted by a patient in the institution - was mostly uncovered. I would have gone farther, but after a half-hour, I was getting dizzy from the fumes coming off the pigeon poop. I took this photograph of the mural, a wonderfully serene image on the wall of a relatively dismal asylum building.
There is nothing now that will buy Him off;
The singers of life who are the memory of life
Are silenced by the scream of plant, tree, sea;
The beautiful severed head floats downriver;
The land recedes
With all it’s needy industry of wheat and vine;
With her weaving spells out of the spell of her speech,
Weaving charm out of the charm of her body;
The day recedes with all my adorations.
How she stood, hypothetical-eyed and metaphor-breasted
Weaving my vision out my sight,
Out of my sight, out of my very sight,
Out of her sight,
Till the sight I see with is blind with light
Other than hers, other than mine;
Till it unravels
And there’s only a light smoke in my hands.
And this is where, O bed of beds!
Tiger, rough of skin and smooth of eye!
She is my loss and my lost one
And I will possess and dare, cannot posses
This other one, this similar, this One.
— The Heavenly Foreigner by Denis Devlin (via lovegodsmashtyrants)
this photo is from a article about the worst bootleg bart tshirts but this is actually the best one
Air craft Carrier
This one is mine ,but it could be ours
theyre going home
it only dawned on me today that i’ve started triple cuffing my jeans
this is getting dangerous