*Wiro wrote:Moving along in this alcohol-induced haze, searching through the rubble on a quest for the stone lady.
Quietly sitting in the darkness, craving the sweet flesh of an unknown fruit.
Aching, restlessly wandering without moving, suppressing the throbbing pains for fear of further violation by dark magicks.
Reorganising my emotional passions, keeping myself in check. The future is bright, the future is dead.
Rejected for my every movement, quietly submitting to the ridiculous bureaucracy of the snoring devil.
I'm a little teapot, short and stout. Here's my handle. Here's my snout.
Conjuring up a violent thought: it can be mine. All mine by blood and good cooking.
I really like this style for this thread! It leaves much to the imagination.