Spotted something like this on Reddit so I tried to copy it. Wish I’d picked a better pen though
I just came up with a great cliff hanger.
Lonely pyromaniac; just wanted a match.
“Wrong number” says a familiar voice.
I had amnesia once, maybe twice.
Once the rain has gone
All the mud that flowed,
But with the rain did not go
On our quiet street shows-
Underneath the concrete shores
Where houses dock,
And people knock-
Good earth below.
While reading, time passes quickly. Look at the clock while you think about it. Reading kills time and time kills people.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Lose something everyday. A set of keys, hours badly spent. In the time it takes for a bruise to heal, for hair to grey and for you to notice- it’s too late. Everything has passed just try not to miss the rest of the show.
Between childhood relics, board games and jars of collectables I found a dead moth.
He died right next to a magic box and my collection of seeds and leaves. Those plants would never leave their jars. For the first time I felt like I’d lost something. The universe was talking to me in simple but effective metaphors.
Love is sublime and can’t be sublimated.
(Remember that sublimation has meanings in both a social context and a scientific context. Old people can be really witty.)