January 2012
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The Sphinx, Oscar Wilde
In a dim corner of my room for longer than my fancy thinks A beautiful and silent Sphinx has watched me through the shifting gloom.
Inviolate and immobile she does not rise she does not stir For silver moons are naught to her and naught to her the suns that reel.
Red follows grey across the air, the waves of moonlight ebb and flow But with the Dawn she does not go and in the night-time she is...
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A little dose of irony to start the day.
batwhatever:
holyoldjokeisold:
yourfavoritehomicidalclown:
batwhatever:
yourfavoritehomicidalclown:
batwhatever:
yourfavoritehomicidalclown:
Batman.
Admit it, you laughed.
…Why you gotta prove my point, Batsy?
I heard there might be something funny going on.
But then I saw it was you.
Oh, Batsy…!
You’re such a riot!
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