Red Mosquito

E.H. Ruddock wrote:

Chris_H_2 wrote:20 years, one wife, and two kids later, i still sometimes think about my ex girlfriend

When that happens just picture your babysitter

Peeps wrote:

E.H. Ruddock wrote:

Chris_H_2 wrote:20 years, one wife, and two kids later, i still sometimes think about my ex girlfriend

When that happens just picture your babysitter

same person aint it?

tree_ wrote:Jiminy crickets!

pepperwhiteMFC wrote:

tree_ wrote:Jiminy crickets!

I know I sound like a real asshole in saying that, but it’s because you don’t know anything about why I would feel that way.

oasisfan35 wrote:

pepperwhiteMFC wrote:

tree_ wrote:Jiminy crickets!

I know I sound like a real asshole in saying that, but it’s because you don’t know anything about why I would feel that way.

You don't sound like an asshole at all.

Chris_H_2 wrote:i hope you're proud of yourself ruddo

Peeps wrote:I hope the next time chris h has adult time he pictures my face

tommy wrote:

Peeps wrote:I hope the next time chris h has adult time he pictures my face

How do you know he doesn't already?

pepperwhiteMFC wrote:I don’t think of my ex, unless it’s fantasizing that he runs into someone more horrible than him who beats the ever loving sh*t out of him.

BurtReynolds wrote:I get along better now with my ex then I ever did when we were together. We used to fight constantly.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.