why doesn't anyone tell me these things?
So apparently I've been locked up in my house reading Blake while Southern California burns. What can I say, I do not own a fiddle.
Labels: fire, poesie, william blake
posted by thedrymock @ 12:22 AM
5 comments
5 Comments:
Man, that's some half-assed, wistful exultation Satan's got going on there. Maybe he left the gas on?
Oh, hey, uhm, Mandy? Psssst... the sky is falling. You're welcome.
He does look like he's sniffing for something.
Thanks Shosh! You're a peach.
Perhaps he farted. And the firey depths of hell set it aflame. And he's like, oh shit however will I make a malevolent first impression upon this corpse now? And I'm a thriteen year old boy.
And then that snake totally bit off her boobie!!!!1! LOLZ
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