I have so many missing assignments in school. Mental breakdown ensues, but that’s ok because I have soup in the fridge. Mmmmm.
Next day, Band is awful, I screwed up my parts and ruined my music. It’s alright, I have some leftover soup waiting for me in the fridge once I get home. Mmmmmm, soup.
I wake up the next day, greeting my mother in the kitchen while I whip up some cereal - wait, could that be considered soup? Oh well. Mother smiles at me.
“I went shopping last night because we were out of milk and decided to get that soup you like.”
I am grateful. Soup is good. Especially with bread. Mmmmm, soup.
Later that same night, I throw some soup in the microwave and slice off a piece of bread to dip in the soup. I spread butter on it to make the flavour even smoother. Mmmmm, soup is good.
Everyday is soup. What is life? Soup? It’s a loop. Every day I look in the fridge to see more soup. I eat it, and there’s even more. I’m going insane, it’s a soup loop. The letters in soup are looking foreign to me. I eat this, every day, and I will continue to eat it for the rest of my miserable life. Soup is good. Soup is good. Soup, soup, soup. Soup. Broccoli cheese, french onion, it changes every day. Soup is versatile. Is cereal a soup? With a milk base and the main cereal accents, I think cereal is a soup. Another part of my miserable soup diet. I wake up and eat soup. I pull out a thermos at lunch and eat alphabet soup. I heat some soup up in the microwave for dinner. Soup. Life is soup, soup is all I need. Soup.
the ritual requires one more egg. I am almost there.
Sixteen days was all it took
To go back to it’s old ways.
Something shining on the desk,
a mind at unrest,
With every little stroke, the souls slipped away.
I gave up everything to hold on. They split anyway, and I'm left with nothing.
"...We, who hurt each other so terribly, will sit here licking each other's wounds. We damaged goods will each seek the other out in comfort. If you are to die tomorrow, I'm fine with ending my life as well. But if you want to live for me for one more day, I'll go on living with you today as well."
All I'm saying is that if I moved to Chile and continued to live my life as a mountain goat, things would probably be better. No capitalism. No society. Just grass.
sorry for the hiatus guys I was too busy catching the dancing plague and succumbing to my anxiety, thus entering a permanent state of astral projection
I step out of the limo
My bones shed the flesh
I pull off the horse mask
No thoughts, head empty. Just want to take a nap.
When I was like, 11, I thought, "What if the word 'spooky' had a q?" So now my name is spooqy.