Born in the dark. Buried deep in the dirt, Where the roots wrap around in a delicate swarm Like sinew around your arms.
Last night I dreamt that a bee landed on my forehead between my eyes.
Let’s make it an odd and prime number. Third. Or Fifth. Perhaps 7th. THIRTEEN. Who knows. I’m going to pick one though. I realized a nanosecond afterwards that first is unfair and I’m actually curious to get to know who is following this mildly chaotic impulsive brain wave I call a blog.
The third person that puts a message in my ask box will get an impromptu instrumental song written for/about them and posted in tonight. I’m a bit drunk. This could be fun. Only request is a short story, fact or fiction of where their current mind is.