Where your favorite blogs come alive
Dead On Arrival by FOB is one of those songs that has levels of complexity to it. Like for me, the song literally is talking about itself. I ALWAYS skipped DOA because it was different from a lot of the other songs I was listening to by them. And then I gave it a listen and was like oh I forgot the ending bit is more interesting and I started fighting that instinct to skip it. Then I listened to it HIGH. I heard the words and got the meaning and I was like ohhhhh. It’s the irony of how fans react to music YEARS later. Because it has been yeaaaaaars and I’m still the target audience of emo sad hours and I’m being perceived by their music and it’s just so poetic, and then I’m like these are just some dudes and I am just high and this is just a song.
Internet spiders. People don’t know that there’s spiders in the internet
Thinking about them tonight
I'm having a high thought but okay so if water burns Zim like acid, what would earth acid to to Zim? And what would earth fire do to him as well?
I think earth acid would either A. Be normal for Zim, and he can bathe in it or B. It would fucking kill him
And Fire? Probably burn him into a crisp either way
The flowers do listen, like butterfly kisses. Along the wispy road.
Their crowns to the air, those ne'er-do-wells. With colors brighty shown.
No petals are broken, no fragrance unspoken. Barefoot along the path.
They sip morning dew, in gowns with deep hues. Their toes along the bath.
Slowly they sway, the wind combs the days. Away with gentle brush.
Each one a sister, the truth they do whisper. But lower than a hush.
Six Word Story
Last one alive, closes the door.
Do you ever think that if a dog sees a seal sunbathing on the rocky shore he would think, "Holy shit! A mermaid!"?
I'll not waste good chapstick,
on bad kisses anymore.
I suck at rhymes but here it is...
I don't know when, but at a later date.
There won't be any more cookies to bake.
No love to make,
No earth to quake,
No hands to shake,
And no lives to take.
When that day comes, I hope to find.
A larger species of Clementine?
Or many more words without a rhyme?
Or climb-ier vines,
Or softer crimes,
Or smellier pines,
With straighter lines.
But until then it's up to you,
To find many more lines that rhyme with blue.
Find prettier views,
Find me lefty-er shoes,
And truer trues that speak just for vous.
Ah! But here I am taking all the
S P A C E,
And haven't left you a chance to grace,
This page with words you want to create.
Careful now it's not a race.
There isn't any first to place,
Only yummier taste,
Only bass-ier bass,
Only ever yourself,
No rules to place.
But before I do,
I realize-es,
I've gone and wrote this on
Electronic devices!
I hope this version
Lives to suffice-es!
Or will it be gone and sacrifices?!
I should have taken other advices!
Been nice-ier nices!
Tried creamier ices!
Tried dating girls with a little more spices!
I don't think our love was like any storybook,
We worked like cold, clinically drafted plans.
She told me exactly what she needed to build foundations, as I did for her.
And we both learned to be architects along the way.
We learned to read instructions written in two different languages, the hidden meaning of gestures.
Reenforcing weakness and learning failure points.
It may not be as exciting as any great book but I know what it will look like in the end.
.... because she comes with a troubleshooting section.
I once lived a very Eeyore-ian life. Now I am tickled pink at the absurdity of it all. The contradictions and hypocriticals of living an authentic life.
My fat ass: *looks at the nutrition label*
"If you adjust calories for inflation, I'm actually under eating."
No one is beautiful,
Like she is beautiful.
If I was Burger King I'd make a better Whopper and call it The Whoppest.