Just trying it out to see what its like.
Gather round, children. Let me tell you a tale about my ghost. (Or maybe my maybe-not-ghost. lulz(1). Once upon a time we moved into a new place, an older home. (It's always an older home isn't?(2)) This was good. We were pleased. Movin' out of the ole family's domicile, into our own space.
By WOAabout a year ago in Journal
Peals of grins, shake down around my ankles, cataclysmic. Feet planted, sandy grit and gritty sand, sweet purple puddles. Babe, touch the tip of my lashes, a thousand strokes of
By WOAabout a year ago in Poets
I belted the fancy to my farce; you smiled, elven in the summer snows. Why couldn't we cinch our hips to the sun; why couldn't we play flutes on moons; why couldn't we sway under vellum stars, a thousand years old...
By WOA2 years ago in Poets