After all, in this world, the chairs cannot answer your thoughts.
Playing around with rhythm and rhyming.
A jealous knife in Master Warner's pantry.
(All of the photos I have taken myself)
Nothing but a vessel for The Devil himself... Prompt word “leather”
It is screaming out my name, with every little hurdle.
This ended up sounding weirder than I thought it would...
Sometimes I feel like there’s no solution, like a knife to my flesh is all that matters.
Yeah, I kinda might’ve given up on this...
I want to cut. Just because I'm bored.
I think I ate too many potatoes recently~
When I cut, it is not about death. It is about life. About wanting to feel something that is real.
Can’t stand work.
Can’t stand life.
All this is hard.
I want the knife.
She quickly whipped her head around to find someone lurking in the shadows of her own home, yet no one is to be seen in her line of sight.
haunting eyes daunting eyes killing me on the inside follow me
I haven't picked up the knife.
Short story (300ish words) about compliance. There's blood though, you're warned.