Thursday, November 2, 2017
The Plant. That damned plant. I watered her like no one could ever possibly hope for. She starved for my attention like no one in my life. Her roots, like tendrils, gripped my attention and desires. She was insatiable. All I could think of was how I could satisfy her desires. Her leaves were so beautiful. So colorful, so bright. But I wanted them even brighter. Autumn always beckons, does it not? The necrofiliac season seems to unreasonably reason us into the season of death and decay. I loved the smell of her death as she crunched underneath my feet. This is my favorite time of year.