you’ve decomposed every part of me with your stupid green eyes and long brown hair. numbness took over me for months. creativity out the window. was it wasted? we will never know. but you decompose and decompose, and ill be there rotting with you. in the ground, the land, the sky, the tall grass; let us decompose our lives together.
I stood there, watching my dad decompose into nothing. My strong loving father, dying, falling into a pit of nothingness. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me.
Of all the deadly things in the world, the decomposers are the worst. There are many good things in this world. Even things that we don’t necessarily like, but they’re still better than decomposers. For example, everyone seems to be afraid, or disgusted, by the reptiles in the universe. Snakes, and lizards, and alligators, and all of the other reptiles. But all of these are better than the decomposers. The decomposers are nothing. They feed on the dead animals of this universe. The decomposers are the lowest of the low. The decomposers are terrible. The decomposers are deadly.
Of all the deadly things in the world, the decomposers are the worst. There are many good things in this world. Even things that we don’t necessarily like, but they’re still better than decomposers. For example, everyone seems to be afraid, or disgusted, by the reptiles in the universe. Snakes, and lizards, and alligators, and all of the other reptiles. But all of these are better than the decomposers. The decomposers are nothing. They feed on the dead animals of this universe. The decomposers are the lowest of the low. The decomposers are terrible.
My body started to erode on the 17th of June.
My muscles developed atrophy,
Because my mind ceased to function on the mortal realm.
I found ecstasy in the thought of you
And the world we created between our minds,
Between the raindrops
Where only sun could shine.
So I stayed in paradise
And died sooner than I should.
My professional life, much like my actual life before it, had begun to decompose in recent weeks, stemming largely, I would suppose, from my growing apathy, which this little forray into the internet has done nothing to address.
It wasn’t easy I can tell you that. I watched it for like several ours. The structure. Everything we have built. It was slowly decomposing right in front of my very eyes. The only witness. No one will ever believe me, it was indeed a night of horror.
Everything around the churchyard was decomposing. This was where people dumped relatives already stricken with rigor mortis. The harsh weather patterns stripped away the dry, stale flesh and lukewarm blood fairly quickly – the winds tore apart the tissue, the rain clogged up the opening pores and dissolved the salty innards of the eye sockets. In only months, there were skeletons littered beside the vestibule.
Moist rich soil swallows you up and you fall into its trap. Dirty soft hands grab you all over pulling you in. you can feel the rough scars on their palms and them dry blood on the fingernails. you cant fight back. Your thoughts scream at you begging to be let go. but your body cant move. Frustration comes over you as you drown and fall deeper into the ground. air pushed out of you and you suffocate watching the leaves fall and branches sway. and it all turns black.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how nothing matters. One day I will be dead and decomposing. Even if I write ten thousand symphonies, or a book that breaks hearts and starts revolutions, or paint a masterpiece. One day they will die too. And the Earth. And stars. And every flap of a butterflies wing will be forgotten.
baura es un proceso en el que las cosas ya no sirven las cosas se pudren mueren cambian ertc, o es hacer en partes mas pequelñas las cosas en sus minimos componentes es asic omo las cosas peuden ser bilogicos o fisicos o incluso matematicos como el pensameinto
Moist rich soil swallows you up and you fall into its trap. Dirty soft hands grab you all over pulling you in. you cant fight back. You want to in the thoughts in your head but your body cant move. Frustration comes over you as you drown and fall deeper into the ground and it all turns black.
Mosit rich soil swallows you up and you fall into its trap. Dirty soft hands grab you all over pulling you in. you cant fight back. You want to in the thoughts in your head but your body cant move. Frustration comes over you as you drown and fall deeper into the ground and it all turns black.
l’unica cosa che le veniva in mente guardando quei fiori è che tutto appassisce come loro, e che almeno tu potevi salvarli dalla decomposizione mettendoli in un libro, custoditi gelosamente da due fazzoletti. il tuo cuore in un libro non c’entra e non lo potevi salvare tu dalla decomposizione
This wasn’t right. No maybe it was, I thought silently as I looked deep into his eyes. Quit it. You can’t love him. And then it the feelings were gone, briefly. I had pushed my them away and they were being prepared to be crushed and decomposed with all my other hopes and dreams.
And then they came back. Like a rush of a waterfall, down on to me at once. And I immediately took a step towards him, unaware that I had even thought of the idea. Before I knew it I was in his embrace. And we were kissing.
The body begins its decomposition even before the creature is dead. I fear that I may be crumbling too. Even as I type this, my cells are dying, and my brain is losing grip on me.
“We’ll leave the body here, where it can decompose without notice.” he said, pushing it from the back of his truck and into the swamp.
“Hey, John.” I asked, once we were comfortably back on the road. “How come you know all this stuff anyway?”
“I…watch a lotta TV. That’s all.” he said, his voice hesitating in all the most worrying places. Jeeze, what had I gotten myself into with this guy?
“Yeah, right.” I scoffed.
“What? I do!” he exclaimed, his voice breaking.
“Uh huh. Suuure.”
Right next to the pile of shit that you have accumulated underneath your pillow over the years are the decomposed bodies of the people you have let down. Right next to you while you sleep are all those who died because of you; one word muttered wrong, one sigh of annoyance, one missed call, those are all the bodies. The shit, it rubs off and it can be cleaned, but those bodies will forever be lying there with you, dining on your table, sitting on your couch, showering in your bathtub. They can’t be burned or buried and they won’t leave your side. When you turn around at night and feel their cold, bony hands grasping your hair or your body, you will remember, each case, each voice; and though their faces won’t ever haunt you, there’s nothing worse than hearing their voices resonating in your ears.
As I stood and watch my work surrender to the rain I felt release. I was free. Enslaved all those years tho this piece of what I prayed would be considered art, only to be enslaved to another project soon after this was done. I had to learn to live outside the confines of my self worth.
I’m looking down on myself.
My pathetic life.
I’ve watched my mind slowly decompose
My surroundings are moving but I can’t keep up
Never keep up
Never can absolve myself.
Once a boy walked home after a long day at school.
Next to the road sat a beautiful, colorful bird. It sat real still… Too still.
With a stick he turned it over.
It was busy decomposing.
The boy did not understand the futility of the situation.
What did the bird do to understand a brutal death like this.
It seemed as
my talent begin to decompose right before my eyes. I watched it–grasping, panting, reaching, begging for it to stay but itlooked me dead in my eyes and faded away—backward–fast. i started to run toward it but my feet moved not. i watched. weeped. bid it adieu with only hope that it will returns on its own merit
She looked at me from across the room. Curly hair rolled tightly to her head. Glass of champagne lingering about her lips. Jewelry sparkling gaily in the bleaching light of the vast crystal chandelier. She was looking at me only. That was me done for.
Once i read in a book that we’re all made of stardust…
Stardust reshaping over and over again. We decompose just to turn into something else in the endless circle of life.
Worms help decompose leaves to enrich the soil. I don’t think too many people spend a lot of time wondering what dry leaves must taste like. We all love the smell, but how many of us have ever thought to taste them (other than six year-olds, of course). I wonder if worm breath smells like burning leaves.
She was in the ground. All of her depression was gone. All her suicidal thoughts decomposing in the ground with all of the memories she held. Slowly being forgotten.
the flowers on my desk are slowly rotting away, they are wilting, their beauty but a ghastly shadow on withered petal leaves. an apt reminder of time passing by, you said, and i saw the time pass but i didnt see the flowers lessen, i didnt see their splendor fade – all i saw was ageing grace.
Decompose, huh? I would never have guessed that would be my word. I feel like my brain is decomposing lately with all of the homework that I’ve been getting. I’m passing comm law fairly well, which I’m surprised by. Beginning Reporting is starting to kick my ass though, I’ll be lucky if I get a B in the class.
you’ve decomposed every part of me with your stupid green eyes and long brown hair. numbness took over me for months. creativity out the window. was it wasted? we will never know. but you decompose and decompose, and ill be there rotting with you. in the ground, the land, the sky, the tall grass; let us decompose our lives together.
Anita tries a Fire Ball
crinkle. crinkle.
pop.
hmmm. hmmm.hmmm..
oh. ooh. ooh. ooooh.
ow. ow. hot. ooow. oomowow.
owhmmm.
ooh. ooh. aah.
hmmm.
crunch.
hmmmm. oh yeah.
I stood there, watching my dad decompose into nothing. My strong loving father, dying, falling into a pit of nothingness. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me.
Is what happens when something in my fridge doesn’t get eaten. It’s all too often. Sad really.
Of all the deadly things in the world, the decomposers are the worst. There are many good things in this world. Even things that we don’t necessarily like, but they’re still better than decomposers. For example, everyone seems to be afraid, or disgusted, by the reptiles in the universe. Snakes, and lizards, and alligators, and all of the other reptiles. But all of these are better than the decomposers. The decomposers are nothing. They feed on the dead animals of this universe. The decomposers are the lowest of the low. The decomposers are terrible. The decomposers are deadly.
Of all the deadly things in the world, the decomposers are the worst. There are many good things in this world. Even things that we don’t necessarily like, but they’re still better than decomposers. For example, everyone seems to be afraid, or disgusted, by the reptiles in the universe. Snakes, and lizards, and alligators, and all of the other reptiles. But all of these are better than the decomposers. The decomposers are nothing. They feed on the dead animals of this universe. The decomposers are the lowest of the low. The decomposers are terrible.
My body started to erode on the 17th of June.
My muscles developed atrophy,
Because my mind ceased to function on the mortal realm.
I found ecstasy in the thought of you
And the world we created between our minds,
Between the raindrops
Where only sun could shine.
So I stayed in paradise
And died sooner than I should.
My professional life, much like my actual life before it, had begun to decompose in recent weeks, stemming largely, I would suppose, from my growing apathy, which this little forray into the internet has done nothing to address.
It wasn’t easy I can tell you that. I watched it for like several ours. The structure. Everything we have built. It was slowly decomposing right in front of my very eyes. The only witness. No one will ever believe me, it was indeed a night of horror.
the decomposing flowers looked more beautiful now than before, papery thin, visible veins, colors muted shapes skewed.
Today was a melancholy day. I felt like I was decomposing into not quite natural.
Everything around the churchyard was decomposing. This was where people dumped relatives already stricken with rigor mortis. The harsh weather patterns stripped away the dry, stale flesh and lukewarm blood fairly quickly – the winds tore apart the tissue, the rain clogged up the opening pores and dissolved the salty innards of the eye sockets. In only months, there were skeletons littered beside the vestibule.
Moist rich soil swallows you up and you fall into its trap. Dirty soft hands grab you all over pulling you in. you can feel the rough scars on their palms and them dry blood on the fingernails. you cant fight back. Your thoughts scream at you begging to be let go. but your body cant move. Frustration comes over you as you drown and fall deeper into the ground. air pushed out of you and you suffocate watching the leaves fall and branches sway. and it all turns black.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how nothing matters. One day I will be dead and decomposing. Even if I write ten thousand symphonies, or a book that breaks hearts and starts revolutions, or paint a masterpiece. One day they will die too. And the Earth. And stars. And every flap of a butterflies wing will be forgotten.
baura es un proceso en el que las cosas ya no sirven las cosas se pudren mueren cambian ertc, o es hacer en partes mas pequelñas las cosas en sus minimos componentes es asic omo las cosas peuden ser bilogicos o fisicos o incluso matematicos como el pensameinto
Moist rich soil swallows you up and you fall into its trap. Dirty soft hands grab you all over pulling you in. you cant fight back. You want to in the thoughts in your head but your body cant move. Frustration comes over you as you drown and fall deeper into the ground and it all turns black.
Mosit rich soil swallows you up and you fall into its trap. Dirty soft hands grab you all over pulling you in. you cant fight back. You want to in the thoughts in your head but your body cant move. Frustration comes over you as you drown and fall deeper into the ground and it all turns black.
l’unica cosa che le veniva in mente guardando quei fiori è che tutto appassisce come loro, e che almeno tu potevi salvarli dalla decomposizione mettendoli in un libro, custoditi gelosamente da due fazzoletti. il tuo cuore in un libro non c’entra e non lo potevi salvare tu dalla decomposizione
I decompose at your touch
Of ill-scented sin
Poisoned by your kiss
The death on your lips
I am entranced
This wasn’t right. No maybe it was, I thought silently as I looked deep into his eyes. Quit it. You can’t love him. And then it the feelings were gone, briefly. I had pushed my them away and they were being prepared to be crushed and decomposed with all my other hopes and dreams.
And then they came back. Like a rush of a waterfall, down on to me at once. And I immediately took a step towards him, unaware that I had even thought of the idea. Before I knew it I was in his embrace. And we were kissing.
The body begins its decomposition even before the creature is dead. I fear that I may be crumbling too. Even as I type this, my cells are dying, and my brain is losing grip on me.
“We’ll leave the body here, where it can decompose without notice.” he said, pushing it from the back of his truck and into the swamp.
“Hey, John.” I asked, once we were comfortably back on the road. “How come you know all this stuff anyway?”
“I…watch a lotta TV. That’s all.” he said, his voice hesitating in all the most worrying places. Jeeze, what had I gotten myself into with this guy?
“Yeah, right.” I scoffed.
“What? I do!” he exclaimed, his voice breaking.
“Uh huh. Suuure.”
Right next to the pile of shit that you have accumulated underneath your pillow over the years are the decomposed bodies of the people you have let down. Right next to you while you sleep are all those who died because of you; one word muttered wrong, one sigh of annoyance, one missed call, those are all the bodies. The shit, it rubs off and it can be cleaned, but those bodies will forever be lying there with you, dining on your table, sitting on your couch, showering in your bathtub. They can’t be burned or buried and they won’t leave your side. When you turn around at night and feel their cold, bony hands grasping your hair or your body, you will remember, each case, each voice; and though their faces won’t ever haunt you, there’s nothing worse than hearing their voices resonating in your ears.
As I stood and watch my work surrender to the rain I felt release. I was free. Enslaved all those years tho this piece of what I prayed would be considered art, only to be enslaved to another project soon after this was done. I had to learn to live outside the confines of my self worth.
I’m looking down on myself.
My pathetic life.
I’ve watched my mind slowly decompose
My surroundings are moving but I can’t keep up
Never keep up
Never can absolve myself.
Go back to start.
Once a boy walked home after a long day at school.
Next to the road sat a beautiful, colorful bird. It sat real still… Too still.
With a stick he turned it over.
It was busy decomposing.
The boy did not understand the futility of the situation.
What did the bird do to understand a brutal death like this.
It seemed as
The body had been discovered floating near shore of a small lake, but it was so badly decomposed that the identity was hard to discover.
Once a boy walked home after a long day at school.
Next to the road sat a beautiful, colorful bird. It sat real still
each moment threatens
from day to night to dawn
all that’s ripe
will eventually
decompose
the tragic
symphony
which knew us
when
You could write a song and rip the sheet music into 100 tiny pieces in a fit of rage.
Decompose.
my talent begin to decompose right before my eyes. I watched it–grasping, panting, reaching, begging for it to stay but itlooked me dead in my eyes and faded away—backward–fast. i started to run toward it but my feet moved not. i watched. weeped. bid it adieu with only hope that it will returns on its own merit
She looked at me from across the room. Curly hair rolled tightly to her head. Glass of champagne lingering about her lips. Jewelry sparkling gaily in the bleaching light of the vast crystal chandelier. She was looking at me only. That was me done for.
Once i read in a book that we’re all made of stardust…
Stardust reshaping over and over again. We decompose just to turn into something else in the endless circle of life.
Death rot break down of body fall apart earth microsomes science investigate chalk gross police road kill woods animals break down in life
Worms help decompose leaves to enrich the soil. I don’t think too many people spend a lot of time wondering what dry leaves must taste like. We all love the smell, but how many of us have ever thought to taste them (other than six year-olds, of course). I wonder if worm breath smells like burning leaves.
She was in the ground. All of her depression was gone. All her suicidal thoughts decomposing in the ground with all of the memories she held. Slowly being forgotten.
the flowers on my desk are slowly rotting away, they are wilting, their beauty but a ghastly shadow on withered petal leaves. an apt reminder of time passing by, you said, and i saw the time pass but i didnt see the flowers lessen, i didnt see their splendor fade – all i saw was ageing grace.
Decompose, huh? I would never have guessed that would be my word. I feel like my brain is decomposing lately with all of the homework that I’ve been getting. I’m passing comm law fairly well, which I’m surprised by. Beginning Reporting is starting to kick my ass though, I’ll be lucky if I get a B in the class.
I want to wear a dress with a pretty floral print, she said.
So many flowers everywhere, it’ll be like wearing a garden!
And I couldn’t help but think– flowers die and decompose so quickly.