Bee

Girl dinner

I feel like; and I might be wrong, but I really feel like if I ever became the owner of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory I would have WAY less accidents evolving a series of awful children. Like I really feel like he fumbled the bag on that one.

How much soup can you consume before you are nothing but molten tomato bisque sitting upon your throne of empty cans watching over your fallen kingdom?

Ah yes tinystonecarvings carve bad apple intk the concrete with a chisel so my brain may be scratched 🤤

As I sit here once again. In the dark; illuminated by a light in another room I have forgotten in my haste, I wonder. I wonder many things. Some trivial, some not so. Some pushing memories that make me cry, others that may be some sort of daydream to pass the time. The fog in my mind growing ever present; the burn in my lungs turning into a roaring red flame. As dryness of my mouth becomes clearer than the county side sky, and the redness of my eyes grow to a color akin to fresh roses. I wonder at first; am i reaching into the heavens? Ascending high into the clouds so I may gaze upon Earth’s beauty? Or am I dehydrated for forgetting to drink any form of liquid as the day sped by in a dizzying blur, similar to one like you would see in a cartoon. Then as my mind wanders further, the sizzling of my pen acting as a soundtrack for my night, why can’t I understand? For me; anyways, life has always been a teachable moment. The cacophony of bad and good experiences blending into a melted mess of anxiety and ambitions. The puddle being reached into to form a thought that allows me to feel. Why i must ask; why can’t I have it? What, you may ask? Well what is the very thing that is being kept from me my friend, no not just me, all of us. All of those who beg and writhe, all of us who feel like our skin is akin to saran wrap; hugging to out bones with uncontrollable tightness. Why is it being kept from us? The lustrous greens and blues that the sea keeps below? Gelatinous circles with crispy edges were bought; then lost not once but twice in what I can only describe as heinous and conspiratorial. Once the impressionists cubes and circles did arrive on the third attempt; they left me full of lackluster lifeless that is seen only in stories. Small crunch, and not salty. Sweet…gooey. Fine as a snack but never as a replacement to the hidden ambrosia. Yes my friend, the sea glass is on my mind again. And yes my friend; I understand your pain as it is just as much mine. The siren’s call of the deep sea calls not to swim but to consume. To consume my very thoughts it has achieved. Yet even with the lack of options and opportunities that I have..I still yern. Soft green glass, with a matte finish, crunch and flavorless with perhaps a ghostly grace of salt. Its all I crave. It keeps me up at night. I’m land locked. Never farther but never closer at the same time. The corrosion that it causes me to stop myself from arriving at the jungle of the internet to summon home some sea glass will rot me to my bitter core…amazon is unethical i whisper to my brain. So once again. I sit. Craving the lustrous matte sheen, that one day will be consumed.

fffffffffffffffffffffffFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUCCCCK

Weep womp time for cry

As I sit here; mouth watering, stomach rumbling, mind racing. I cannot help but think of the delicious delight that I may never try. I may never suckle upon it’s mysterious texture nor may I selfishly devour it’s crunchy outer core to understand where it’s been and what it was. It’s smooth sanded shape keeps me up. It haunts my very existence with it’s seductive matte sheen. No, I will never be able to munch down on it’s, what I imagine anyway, it’s glorious outer shell to be gooey and chewy on the inside. Much like when I was growing up and was forbidden from munching on the delectable bird berries that called me with a screaming siren’s call!, I, will never be able to enjoy what I know is a treat far more delectable and satisfying than even the fabled ambrosia of the greek gods. I will never be able to hear the angles sing as I bite into it’s smooth matte finish. At the end of the day, I, will never be able to eat sea glass. But in my imagination….oh in my imagination! I have eaten it ALL. My stomach full of the delightful greens and blues sometimes pink sea glass that has been bestowed upon me from the very sea that I fear. But alas, my teeth are week, my stomach? Riddled with IBS. So to whom shall I go to. This feral desire lives within me so hungry it fuels me with anger and despair that I fear I may loose my self. To whom do I go when I cannot take it? The very sight enough to drive me mad? To whom shall I go then? Hm? God? No…god wouldn’t punish me with the scrumptious look and taste of the rocks that I may never know! I have been cursed. I will eat sea glass. Alas, I have none near by. To etsy I go. Farewell my dear readers. My final wish is for you to know these final thoughts in my final, non sea glass eaten moment are; you’ve lost the game, uwu, and goodnight.