It's Time to StopDear Heart,Just one more cheeseburger?
The GardenThe garden of truth experienced drought.
Someone Lied to MeRocky Road? But there's no marshmallows!
HypothermiaIn freezing temperatures she felt... warm.
BarrenThey've shut the factory downCanal run dryFields barrenDairy farms emptyThere is no one left to buy the milkWho will stay hereWhere the seeds won't take rootCan't bear fruitThe assembly line is goneDismantledUselessO HestiaHold me tightDon't let me hearWhen the doctors sayYour uterus is faultyWe took it in the nightWhile you sleptNo more to feel the swell of new lifeOr to hold innocence to my chestLike thievesThey've taken that all from meThe sun glares through the windowAnd I feel the void in my stomachI can't help but wonderAm I still a woman?
Who needs a map?We lost our way; made another.
Groundskeeper When the five o'clock chimes sounded, ten-five felt his gears begin to turn. The task was more difficult than it used to be. No one had been around to oil him for the last several cycles. But this did not bother him. He had a job to do, and as long as he could move, he would do it. The door to the shed was gone, and most days the weather came in. Ten-five still paused and reached for the knob that was not there. He gave the door a wide berth and moved through the empty space into the garden. The house was in good repair. Ten-five suspected that the repair units were still functioning. There was one out right then, applying a fresh coat of paint to the shutters. The tomatoes were first on his list. The plants were withered, and no longer bore fruit, but ten-five watered each one as he moved down the row. He did the same for the cucumbers, radishes, beans, and melons. H
Something You Want to Tell Me?Found your skeleton in the closet.
When You Wish Upon a"The evening star! I wish-""Airplane."
On her ownShe rummaged through childish trinkets, crying.
FallenHer body broke; her spirit shattered.
Sans regrets"I love you." Message not received
Sans regrets: Part II"I miss you."Message not sent.
The Heterophobic"I'm not gay," said his boyfriend.
CrowBarGot hammered.Nailed her.Husband saw.
-bittersweet poet-writing for love, friends, money.prostitution.
Volume Setting: 27But odd numbers bother my OCD!
Loneliness At 4:03am Tick.Can't. Tock. Tick. Sleep. Tock.
HilariousKeep on laughing...you'll die first.
DisclaimerShe wore disclaimers instead of skin.
1% ironyTo promote slavery, call it 'Freedom'.
Going... Going... Gone.Another girl sold,Families left crying.
A Mortal's Love TriangleLoved by Life; betrothed to Death
HeadlinesWORLD PEACE ACHIEVEDNEWS STATIONS BANKRUPT
FisticuffsCall me odd?Now we're even.
The Serial KillerHer blue eyes made exquisite trophies.