Always. That’s the point.
Nothing else matters; If you would not feel
the horrible burden of Time weigh you
down and crush you to the Earth,
Be drunken, continually.
Drunken with what?
With wine, with poetry, or with virtue as you please.
but Be drunken.
And if sometimes on the steps of a palace
or on the green grass in a ditch or in the
dreary solitude of your own room
You should awaken and find the
drunkenness half or entirely gone
Ask of the wind ,of the wave, of the star of
the bird, of the clock of all that flies, of all
that sighs, of all that moves, of all that
sings, of all that speaks, Ask what hour it
is, and wind, wave, star, bird or clock will
“It is the hour to be drunken
Be drunken if you would not be the
martyred slaves of Time.
Be drunken Continually, with wine, with
poetry or with virtue, as you please.”
- omg earthquake!!!!
- ahh my mom just got hit by a rock omg!!!!
- rip mommy u were a good bitch
- flood is coming!!
- omg water is in my house
- nO NOT MY COMPUter
- it's ok i have service on my phone guys
- OMG MY SISTER IS DROWnING
- aw a fireman is here
- he's giving my sister mouth 2 mouth
- i ship it omg
- otp; i know how to save a life
- whoa the earth is like breaking open
when you’re little time seems to pass so slowly and when i was five all the kids in kindergarten were so tall and afternoons lasted forever and graham crackers seemed larger than three by fives and we never really grew up. but now all those children lined up straight like madeleine in paris are fun-sized, with gnome heads that just skim our knees and fingers that grope at our toes and they’ve shrunk over the years, how they’ve shrunk. 100% cotton laundry loads and meatloaf mondays and jazz nights and early labor and now we’re old, old like the moon and the fiery stars and the apples rotting beneath our feet. and now the year is gone and autumn seems to fade and i am old, my bones are hollow, and time, that roadrunner, keeps keeps coming, a bullet from your smokin’ gun.