Can I please change my major to Monster Theory with a concentration in Satanic Narrative?
alpha-wolf-of-death-valley is talking in his sleep again.
"No, nobody wants the first bite."
“… ketchup? …Unlikely.”
I take great comfort in knowing that if the whole publishing career thing falls through, I would make a mean bartender or live-in nanny.
I sit in a center room,
With miles of maze sprawled in front of me,
The ever shifting walls and paths,
Make it impossible to escape,
So I must sit,
I’m going mad from the waiting,
Each hour takes a chunk out of my sanity,
Tarnishing myself in the stagnant air,
Driving another nail into my flesh,
And yet I still must wait,
I must wait for someone,
To come and find me,
I can’t escape from the labyrinth,
So I rely on others,
Others who never come,
They either turn at first sight of the maze,
Or turn back when they grow tired,
And yet I still have to wait,
For one to cross the threshold into my cell,
Hoping I am not so disappointing a prize,
That they’d leave me there,
To rot and rust away,