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InspireMe

  • Remembering

    He closed his eyes,Waiting.Waiting for the memories,To flood back in.His hand caressing hers.Her eyes green as grass.Her skin always soft,And smelled simple,Like roses and honeysuckle.Memories rush fo

    • Poetry
    • Dramatic
    1 min read


I was flummoxed by fractious Franny's decision to abrogate analgesics for the moribund victims of the recent conflagration. Of course, to display histrionics was discretionary, but I did so anyways, implicating a friend in my drama to make the effect cumulative. I think a misanthrope would have a prosaic appellation, perhaps one related to autonomy and the rejection of anthropocentrism. I think they wouldn't think much of the prominence of watching the coagulation of tea to prognosticate future malevolent events, not even if those events were related to jurisprudence.
— Spearmint