Stuff

Nobody Can Eat 50 Eggs

The PYT's Lament

Holy Cow

Evil Evil Evil

In a Land Made of Ice

Two sticks rubbed together make a spark
That's all it takes to set my cardboard heart ablaze
Tucked behind paper ribs
it tells my painted lips to make a kiss that hits the target doused in kerosene

Isn't it lovely?
Isn't it love?

In a gallery full of things people art
is where I lay
Until a passerby stops and asks
would I like to get out of this place?

Cue the flames

Isn't it lovely?
Isn't it love?

And when we're hot to the touch
and the soot fills up my plastic lungs
Then I'll know that's enough
And I'll return to the gallery of things people call art

Isn't it lovely?
Isn't it love?



Nobody Can Eat 50 Eggs

SeaThief