Go, begonia, bloom for once Like your life depends on it, Or else these shears will stab your stem and slice with no remorse. I’m just a bleeding heart, cowering in fear on the twigs From the gardening force Come to deadhead our autumn flower bed. I’m so sorry, begonia, that you had to go.Continue reading “This Invulnerable Bleeding Heart”
Today’s Prompt: Describe yourself as a tree. Ooh goodie some nonsense. I love nonsense. Here are 7 aspects of myself imagined as trees. My independent self I am a mangrove tree, I live in salt water estuaries. I have bright leaves, my bark is rough, speckled like eyespots on potatoes. My roots run shallow throughContinue reading “January 30th, 2022/I’m a pantheon of trees”
What is going on? You can hear me? You can hear me! Yeah, Cory, nice and loud. Ribbon, thank goodness. We’re in a red desert and I have no idea what’s going on. Red? The last desert was brown. Regardless, could you stop shouting? I’m not trying to shout. It’s just that red deserts aren’tContinue reading “Cory’s Story: overgrown insanity garden in 6 simple steps”
Today’s Prompt: What emoji(s) do you like to use? uh…🎉👻🌈🌺🌸🌼 yeah I like these emojis. Notice anything? NONE OF THEM ARE NORMAL FACES. Oh I also like this:), the smiley emoticon. That’s probably the closest to faces I get. I don’t know if it’s just a me thing, or maybe a slightly autistic thing, orContinue reading “January 12th, 2022/hidden and confusing faces”
Hello. How are you? I like your door.
I can make it glow. Do you like glowing things? Glowing things are my favorite. They’re bright and sunny and happy.
My name is Cory. I’m kind of new at this. What’s your name?
My name? I just…I don’t…I don’t understand what’s going on.
Sorry, I’m really new at this. I always remember existing, but I guess that won’t be true for everyone…
I’m sorry, I just remember…I just remember hurting.
Hello. My name is Cory, I’m twenty-two years old, and I’m the advisor of the system.
What’s a year?
Oh. A year? Do…you know what a day is?
Day is when the pain starts.
And I am born of the dreamers’ deadliest desires.
Not what you liked, Dahlia, you who are down to earth?
Every petal takes a cut against my worth,