jerasica
Holding in place one tiny piece of you. Nothing more important than the thought that I know where you sleep and can enter into that sacred place anytime - even when you don't realize it. Also that if you mess with me I can do damage to your stuff.
Empty. Everywhere were the leave-behinds of a family life. Cereals, milk, juice, the books of a small child for school. These tables showed nothing but what was truly missing - the people around them. Nothing could fix the fact that they were no longer there, and that nothing could bring them back.
There was something so indescribable about his face. Maybe it was the face he never smiled, or maybe, more than anything, it was that giant caterpillar of a mustache that sat above his smile-less lips. More than anything the smile of his breath meant something was coming off the top, and no one was to be sure it was hair.
that thick skin seems so impenetrable yet my teeth take action and rip it apart, exposing such wonderful ambrosia beneath. Nothing quite compares to being a zombie and a mango representing a human skull.
"Those beakers are starting to smoke."
"Yes, they are suppose to."
"Ummm...those ball things have lightening coming out of them."
"Yup."
"And that Guy there looks to be in a lot of pain."
"Uh huh."
"What are you doing?"
"Making bubblegum."
Bedsheets, pillows and a mess of hair
Thinking of making you all mine
but afraid it would undo the knot
there must be a way to make
this boy-scout dream
into reality