Writer's block.
Mistletoe stronghold, stoic thistle centrefold; I'm feeding off all your photosynthetic green, your envy a natural source of energy. And I grow these thorns, these spikes, this prickly exterior. It pierces the skin of those that come too near; protecting me from guilt. I'm feeding off your love and admiration and I will make sure it hurts. I will fruit deep ruby berries in the summer, and you will soak the sun and become greener yet, and I will steal as much as I can. I will steal from your envy and kiss you beneath my own branching symbolism.
The more you want me, the more I'll drink, the drunker i'll become, and I will overpower you. All in the name of your own jealousy. You'll die in your own trunk, something you wouldn't even read about it in the mafia. I don't feel.
The more you want me, the more I'll drink, the drunker i'll become, and I will overpower you. All in the name of your own jealousy. You'll die in your own trunk, something you wouldn't even read about it in the mafia. I don't feel.