Nathair77

She said to me; “Bloom where you are planted.” What if I’m not planted in the right place, And get mistaken for a weed? What if I’m poison ivy in your garden, Or an oak among mistletoe? I’d prefer to uproot myself, And move elsewhere Thankyouverymuch.

Secrets Like cold coffee and cigarettes at midnight Desires unspoken and unacted on And words left 'til tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow

It was raining that night. Hard and heavy, the first in weeks of dry, hot weather. The petrichor was strong, and, though the air had a nice chill breeze, it was still warm enough to wear a shirt and shorts. He sat under the porch with a cool glass of vodka and lemonade, and thought about dying alone. It wasn’t that the thought was scary per se, but it was certainly a little depressing. A small flash, followed by an enormous roll of outsized thunder that shook the world. But why did it have to be so damn confusing anyway, he enjoyed being single, right? No one to think about but himself. It was a nice concept, a free concept. It’s

Inhale. Inhale Incinerating lungs Inverting headspace Stained claws Cracked lips And Sweet addiction.

Letter to my Sandwich Dearest Sandwich: I am your God. I have made you from the raw materials in my pantry and fridge. As my creation, you are hereby destined to obey my every whim. You may be wondering what your purpose in life may be… Your purpose is to live for a short time, followed by slow yet delicious consumption. Any bad feelings you have about this are irrelevant, as I am hungry, and you are now approaching my mouth. *NOM* Thank you for your understanding. *NOM* I hope that we can do this *NOM* again sometime. *NOM*…*NOM*…*NOM*…*NOM*…*BLUUURRRRP* Sincerely: Your Diety