Sent to The Crimes

I’m on the Rd to No-where

“Marry, and you will regret it; don’t marry, you will also regret it; marry or don’t marry, you will regret it either way. Laugh at the world’s foolishness, you will regret it; weep over it, you will regret that too; laugh at the world’s foolishness or weep over it, you will regret both. Believe a woman, you will regret it; believe her not, you will also regret it… Hang yourself, you will regret it; do not hang yourself, and you will regret that too; hang yourself or don’t hang yourself, you’ll regret it either way; whether you hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret both. This, gentlemen, is the essence of all philosophy.”

The wounded child inside many males is a boy who, when he first spoke his truths, was silenced by paternal sadism, by a patriarchal world that did not want him to claim his true feelings. The wounded child inside many females is a girl who was taught from early childhood that she must become something other than herself, deny her true feelings, in order to attract and please others. When men and women punish each other for truth telling, we reinforce the notion that lies are better. To be loving we willingly hear the other’s truth, and most important, we affirm the value of truth telling. Lies may make people feel better, but they do not help them to know love. ~bell hooks

(Book: All About Love: New Visions https://amzn.to/4fRAXtX [ad])

I received the chart reading. I really enjoyed and how you integrated everything in a way that really pushed me to focus on what I have and possess right now and tge kost of it. A big thank you. I advise anyone to get a reading. It is so fun and always straightforward.

Thank you🔥❤️

hello fellow peoples of the internet. I'm feeling called to offer astrology readings in return of a review of my work as an astrologist.

you will need

your date of birth

and to let me know if you'd like western or Vedic reading.

Crushing sentiments .. and winter flowers

She dances to forget the heaviness of breathing in a world full of tar

The past, not forgotten, weighs heavy in her heart

and the future edging nearer, looks on to her and stares

Asking her to ripen,

in order to bare

She dances to remember the pennies she threw into the wishing well,

The dreams she holds close

And the fruitful melodies played out,

To the beating of her chest