Omlette Rainbows and flimsy people


I thought about getting

tattoos over my scars

But a book is always

better than a movie


I have over one hundred stitches on my body…… I’d rather tell the story about how I got them to my children as mundane as they may be than to tell the story to my soul of the regret of creating colourful scars in haste and absent-mindedness.

I’m not taking a dig of people who get tattoos for very personal well thought out reasons, but I am questioning the plethora of what now appears to be fashion statements without real thought.

Young men covered with sleeves, getting tear drops etched on their cheeks as if to express fallen comrades or kills they’ve made but they walk around with plucked eyebrows,  white as snow sneakers that have never stepped in the mud of life, shaved bodies and a course of steroids for three months that inflated their ego’s more than it did their bodies. Young men who have never taken a good hiding and shook their opponents hand said ‘cheers, fair fight’  and walked away to live another battle. Just paper fucking people that burn in a puff of capooof as soon as a little heat enters their lives.
Fuck off with your bullshit tats.

Same goes for all you women getting painted for no fucking reason other than to sit in your mother’s house, taking selfies in your underwear trying to garner social media likes whilst you struggle like the rest of us with a normal life, covered up in your uniform at work, too embarrassed to reveal what you really do to your colleagues. When you have your second child and that loose skin won’t go away and that tat looks like a rainbow omelette, you’ll think  back, more than likely you’ll have a real scar, as the mettle of your make up is that weak that you won’t have the backbone to push a baby out naturally and beg for the epidural and for the doctor to gut you open.

Be careful guys. Think hard. Don’t be so fucking irresponsible and reactive.

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