a gentle ruthlessness @sculptedmagic - Tumblr Blog

“Soon you will find within yourself a tree of blessing, a thorn above thorns which, to prevent wholeness, harms everything that could heal you.”

— Christine Lavant, tr. by Beth Bjorklund, from “Horror of Total Persecution,”

savagedefectives

from the archives of octavia butler

republicansareahategroup

CEOs and large corporations are the real welfare queens 👑.

Working off of the labor of others, only there because of being born into capital and pre-existing familial or business relations? Yep

meetnategreen

deathcomes4u

And people still try to defend this shit with ‘Well they MUST work REALLY HARD to earn THAT kind of money!!!’

I assure you they don’t. I assure you the people earning the least money are working the most. I don’t see CEO’s doing 60 hour weeks just to keep food on the table. They don’t do that, because they don’t have to, because they get paid so much they aren’t desperate enough to have to.

simonalkenmayer

If you follow me, reblog this. It is an important piece of data. I would love to see one for the annual tax expenditure of minimum wage versus CEO’s as a proportion of their annual income.

This is the aggregation of labor. This is what it looks like. It has happened before. It will likely happen again unless it is changed.

fangirltothefullest

Also foodstamps doesn’t pay for toiletries or rent or water or electricity it only pays for food and even then only a small amount because these corporate assholes decided that giving people access to food was a “waste of money” and that they were “asking for handouts”.

sixpenceee

This tree shows the linkages between different languages. By illustrator Minna Sundberg.

doom-tech

anshelinasholie

me for 3 years straight: “sorry i haven’t been myself lately”

lilithsplace

Two Human Beings. The Lonely Ones, 1899 Edvard Munch (1863–1944), color woodcut on japan paper, source:

pigmenting

february gets up and gathers her things. looks down at march curled like a cat and sleeping. runs a hand across his back. it’s always so fleeting, so rushed. she turns to the door and march rolls over, unaware. how gentle he looks now, she thinks as she slips out into the night. how warm like a child.