Aqua Squirrels: The Story of BohemiaOnce upon a time, there were too many squirrels sitting on the log. They jostled each other. Quite a few fell off into the ocean.Aqua Squirrels: The Story of Bohemia by ~pereubuisjesus
These flotsam-squirrels became Aqua squirrels.
They grew fins and gills. They created a world exactly like the world on the log, minus the log.
To do this, the aqua squirrels put black socks over their heads and created a reconceptualization of the ocean as a log-sized thing in their imaginations.
Jump With Me, Said The CatJump with me said the cat. I don’t want to said the mouse. The cat pushed the mouse’s buttons so the mouse didn’t want to do what the cat said. The cat laughed. The laugh was laughed in a way that seemed like the cat didn’t care at all. Though the mouse knew it did care. The cat wanted all of the silence out of the house. The silence would not move, just as the mouse would not jump. The silence sat in large dark pools, rippling. The rippling was very light, though the dark was very heavy. “Heavy” thought the mouse, then, for no reason it could think of. “Heavy metal,” thought the cat. They were watching tv. VH1. They had a big tv. Heavy metal, or, more accurately, hair metal was pounding on the screen. The cat chewed its hair. The cat chewed its hair. The cat chewed its hair and the mouse became more withdrawn. Heavy dark pooJump With Me, Said The Cat by ~pereubuisjesus
a friend came over to the house
a few days ago and read one of my poems.
he came back today and asked to read the
same poem over again. after he finished
reading it, he said, 'It makes me want
to write poetry.'"
richard brautigan's Hey! This Is What It's All About
Awaited answers to last month's fan questionsI'm a fucking piece of SHIT MY DICK gossAwaited answers to last month's fan questions by ~NOTgay23
Anyway, all things aside, I think And. we're learning and seeing it how it might go, I think there are multiple raisin "(detras)" for. Tyhis is not we9rd and anyway just to shock you, to speak clearly for a moment, I don't want to mislead you. As much are your dumb little psyche filters out anything good or miore importantly truthful in this massage. nPlease try n whether you like it or not, please wrap your empty, Tim-Burton-Loving Mind, and those smooth fucking JUICY naked legs around what I
'm trying to get around here. Most of this is actuallt accidental.
Don't overthink it...don't underthink it either, you dumb fucking pleb, you know who you are. No irony intended as you actually have no self-wareness or introspection. If you fit the bill, then put it on and QUACK, DAFFY WACKO! But please keep it to ~*U*~R self as a duck's quack does not echo (this is actually a fucking myth propagated
inside the offsetI began thisinside the offset by ~Ghrey
to see the
offset if possible
how far I could take it
overwhelming far-ending predicaments
predominantly predicting predilections
fueled on feeling flayed from
self by stress stratifying personable
attributes like lovingkindness to leadership
to loneliness and all becomes an anyways tipped off
at the end of the tongue to forget
something substantial is happening
it’s hard to see now through the haze of hard
leaning into hard weather this storm a purple heather
hue held off at a hand’s breadth wanting to consume,
and on in, and contain and compartmentalize into half
a human whole into loss of memory more so current than past
pulling pecks of hearts to swell at the trenches of sternum inflated
and crushed, to remember the wholeness once held holy and hungry before
to hold and have another half when one part past and other part
skipped a solid step past present so a sudden time comes to see
the self not present at present or present to self at all so gone complete
Birthday.I would have killed myself yesterday, if it hadn't been your birthday.Birthday. by ~yellowpoppyseeds
I would have sailed into the selfish place where pain overrides my need to survive
I would have sunk below the waves without a single cry
I would've gone out in silence and dampness
one last breath, choking then nothing at all.
I would have killed myself yesterday, if it hadn't been your birthday.
but I couldn't
not on your birthday
no one needs a gift of pain
I'm sorry you love me so much
I am not good to you
I am not good to be around
I wish you could see what I am
I wish you could save yourself from me
I wish you weren't such a good person
I would've killed myself yesterday, if it hadn't been your birthday.
my big fat engagement"Sweetheart, won't you drink your juice?"my big fat engagement by ~SolidMars
The young man looked up at his fiancee and gave her a weak smile as he reached to grab the cup from the table. "Yeah, sorry. I'll drink it now."
"Come on, smile a bit, please? Dad will think something is wrong!" She protested slightly with a slight pout. He glanced at her and leaned back in his seat, looking around the living room. They were alone, true, but he could clearly see her father through the open door.
"How am I supposed to laugh tell me? We've been engaged for over six months now and each time I visit you we just sit like this and stare at each other. If we go out for dinner, your little brother tags along and if I dare to hold your hand right now, your father starts coughing. What does your fingers have to do with his cough?" He protested in an annoyed manner and stared at the clock on the wall, in hopes that the rhythmic ticking might sooth him a bit.
She folded her arms and huffed slightly. "Oh hush you. We'll be marr
|My favorites. I fave whatever catches my eye.|
Once upon a time there were two hands: the hand of hate and the hand of love. They fought each other for no reason. God cried. The hand of hate ate the hand of love and digested it in its wrist. The human that the hands were part of said "ow! ow! ow!" and went to the hospital. In hospital, the human held a book with the hand of hate. The hand of hate was slack with food-coma but the human was still able to hold things. "I can never love anyone! I'll never find anyone to love me now that I only have one hand! What's more, the hand I have left is the less desirable hand, the hand of hate!" said the human later that night, crying in the fetal position. The hand of hate acquired a Little Caesar's franchise. The hand of hate was interviewed in the book Fast Food Nation. The hand of hate was portrayed sympathetically, while Little Caesar's cuisine was not. However, God sensed Fast Food Nation's book-waves with His/Her ESP. One night, when the hand of hate was closing, He/She beamed it up to His/Her Godship. Before an intergalactic tribunal, the hand of hate was sentenced to life in the land of Nod. "Hooray!" said the hand of hate, "I don't have to live in reality!" The human had no hands and was outfitted with robot-claws. He suffered, discovered meaning, and hooray for him.
It was Sam's turn. She looked at Harry. "Was this supposed to be funny?" she asked, referring to Harry's short story about two anthropomorphized missiles. "Yes," said Harry. "Well, it wasn't funny." Harry laughed. Harry stayed in his imagination most of the time and didn't care what Sam said. He didn't care if she laughed or not. His brain was a funny movie watching itself and he found the story funny and he believed he was more intelligent than Sam. Liz said some things. Sky said some things. Sam felt paranoid feelings about her being the only person in the workshop who didn't like Harry's story. She believed strongly in her own opinion, but also felt slightly insecure. She didn't know why she was majoring in creative writing. She thought everything she read in class was boring. She stared at the whiteboard and thought about the good things she imagined people would say the next week when they read the first two chapters of her zombie apocalypse novel. Her grammar was better than Harry's. The smart guy in the class, Joel, mentioned something about a cave and Plato and Harry said yes, that was what he was trying to do.