my house a shambles, clutter every=where;
I know there’s beauty somewhere underneath
the half-done projects, all in disrepair - -
! I stumble on a knife with missing sheath,
my body | scored | by everyday-turned-teeth.
some days a stifling fog will manifest:
in limp fatigue, I dream a lily wreath,
again, again, the morbidly obsessed,
all • move•ment • choke • sup•pressed.

We can't joke about Trolls anymore Homeless monsters Living under
Our bridges, beneath our privileges

We can be kind to Orc folks nevermore  
Hordes invading Colors over
Our borders to steal misfit toys

I guess it was never funny:
your pain, our Ghost Strugglers without voice and dwindling choice

Is is OK to laugh with racist friends at the Comedy Store?
Is it fine to put Goblin babies in a corner for easier M√rder?

Take it easy

We've been on this Slippery Sl°pe before with my Bon Vivant and wet Jovi

12 hours ago