The Microbes. They Are Chanting To Me From The Dirt

stay for the night. I'll sell you a nightmare.

There's something so lovely about the idea of decomposing. A sort of poetry that comes with returning to the earth. Moss taking over my skin, vines tangling into my bones, flowers growing from the nutrients in my blood, animals using me to feed their young. I hope after I die I get to haunt a spot where the forest meets the sea so that I can ominously stand looking over the ocean. I am also content with Haunting a large woods filled with animals that I can spend eternity running with. Life is so beautiful but I feel death will be just as beautiful in its own strange way.

The Morose Pentameter

A lonely night, drowned in tears

But by sunrise, I am drained dry

My ailing heart cannot forget the years

I burned away with lies and pride

The blade could whisper across the flesh

But instead it shrieks into forsaken veins

I'm grown and gone, my comforts left

No longer crave I the relief, but the pain

I do not fear the void's siren song

Close to the edge, I wait to fall

One more time, one more step wrong

I'll meet the fate that awaits us all

We will meet with shadows and a lovers sigh

And comes the last of many days I wished to die

having a freeze response to stress is so funny in the context of normal adult stressors. millions of years of evolution are trying to tell me that the email will not find me if i stay very still and do nothing

And for my next trick, I will show thousands of strangers online my descent into madness.

I want giant soft wings that I can wrap around me to hide

I thrive on cringe.