#bogposting

-I am suitably moist

-I am damp as the day is long

The bog is right there. The bog loves you.

You think that the wind and rain will lovingly cradle your carcass as it sinks down into the anaerobic depths? No. The wind will whistle a tune through your empty ribs and then get distracted and wander off, and the rain is a two-timing bitch.

The hill will have a panic attack because of a passing storm and ruin your remains. Hills don't know how to apologize for landslides! The bog does, though, whenever it makes a mistake. It learned how to whisper into your ear from all its other corpses. It loves them too, just as much as you. It wants you to join them, down there in its lightless depths. Their bodies are tangled together in its eternal embrace. Yours could be too.