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 WOA11 months 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...