i hate when you’re not in the same mood as your friend like when you want to slay your enemies and feast on their flesh and your friend wants to dance in a field of daisies and sing for the sake of singing like no stop that grab a pitchfork
y body craves for the touch of mashed potatoes, the soft white flesh of the vegetable sliding over my body. i havent slept in fifteen days. only the beautiful rapturous gooey white semi solid plant matter inspires me to continue living. sometimes i like to imagine that the mashed potatoes have accepted me as their loving partner. oh can i dream.