Fallen Leaves And Snow Are The Earth's Blankies

the microbes. they are chanting to me from the dirt

I will bite the hand that feeds me. I won't let go. I will gnaw the fingers and crunch the bones between my teeth. The hand didn't feed me enough. I am still hungry.

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.

A toxic environment will likely change you more than you change it. So get out.

I love it when I turn back into static late at night

when someone doesn’t wanna tell me what i did wrong and suddenly i’m 8 years old wondering what i did to make my mom mad again