all is to be dared

“what time is it” you ask, i pull out my 2.7 metric ton granite sundial and immediately crush both of your feet, I loudly announce “it is cloudy”

Ppl who had time for romance in high school we are so different. i was busy fighting for my life in my head

this looks like the same party

they’re shouting back and forth across the club

Cleangirl and minimalism are the same thing and they suck bro they both duplicate the experience of standing in a showroom knowing none of these things are lived in or can be touched they both make me feel a profound whopping nothing at all. i see a house painted white and made out of squares and need to start scratching walls i see a face made in duplicate triplicate available in every plastic surgery clinic and want to scream. where is the wood that's worn by chairs scraping out every night at dinner where is the children's marker that was unsuccessfully scrubbed off the wall where is the hand pushing hair behind an ear adjusting the part doing ANYTHING instead of resolutely not touching because it is something to be Viewed and cannot be mussed or fussed with . im going to burn down the factory where they make all the hair straighteners

"a joy to have in class" aka This Child Will Not Be Diagnosed for at least Eight Years

books? no sir we’re so poor papa only lets us read omegaverse johnlock smut on ao3.

I'm thinking about this post and i have decided that it is one of those things that is a poem in some undefinable way

why does my caladium act like she is starving for light. hang on