GaySpinach

what? You genetically engineered a jackal to speak English? How could you do this? How could you curse a simple and godly animal with cognizance? And of all creatures, why a jackal? Why the mouth of the dead? You’ve cursed us all, you son of a distempered hound, you. You look like you’re french

I saw my own soul nimdok! It was pierced on the thorns of saints! Reality shivered, and I saw it drip black!

The world of beets is shadowed and labyrinthine, rooted in the secret, craggy corners of earthy hearts. Does eating them help channel the inky passions that course through our animal bodies and release them into the light of day? Or do they merely worm their way into our souls to stain our guilty consciences even further with their knowing tint? My hands are stained like Lady Macbeth, and still I can’t stop. I can never stop. Eatin thos beets.

I’m enjoying a fantastic impromptu 4pm smoothie run with your father in law. I know how hard you’ve been trying to impress him, and I know that it isn’t working. I also know that the ease with which your father and law and I fall into conspiratorial repartee bothers you, and that the news of our bonding sesh is probably going to really stick in your craw, but you know what? That’s your problem. Me and your father really get along, like organically, and I’m not going to let your misplaced insecurity get in the way of what’s shaping up to be a really awesome friendship, even if I’d rather we went to a different smoothie place (the dude at the counter has some weird vibes)


I’m waiting for that flower to unfurl in your chest so I can love you again (teehee, that’s a lie, I loved you the whole time! Idiot.)