so here i am...Thatched and burning...
this is it.
the one i didnt plan for.
this is the hurricane The Weatherman: Me, didnt plan for. this is the one i left the sandbags in the barn with the mice...but now the winds are high and the rain makes it too loud for her to hear me...all im trying to do is scream out: ITS BURNING!!! FIRE!! FIRE!!!
the weeds are out tonight my friend. theyve found my garden. fucking bastards found my precious garden i kept so far away and hidden. now the weeds are inside. in between the petals. sucking the water. right through the stem. but the worst part is...if i try to warn my garden, the weeds twist further..."weeds"...or is it just "words" mispelled...?
im shaking as i type this. no elegance. no peace. this only happens at night. only when im alone do i start to wonder if the whole world is in good company.
with every newspaper read to me, i feel my flesh melt from my body...just from hearing the headlines. if only i could stop the shaking;thinking.
is it true? am i right? is this justified???
yes goddamn it he said yes. him who spends his life telling me how mine can be worth living, he who i run to, once a week. "triangulation" "affirmation" these are the tools at work. this is what im running from. "and with good reason" ill fight and fight and fight until were free. free together. clip the fucking weeds and burn their branches...
but, alas, i cannot handle fire...for i am Thatched. Thatched and burning....
theres no right way to handle a lose-lose situation like this. all i can do is beg. get down on my cursed knees and beg with the same shaking fingers and reddening eyes i have now.
no im alright. im going to get through this, because if i fear i ask for lines and walls, my trust will be brought into question by him.
ANY FERTILIZER I SPRAY WILL BE TWISTED AND CHOKED OUT BY WEEDS
affirmation;acceptance;attention.
triangulation;third party;loaded gun.
whats a boy to do? kill???
its been night for so long. i just want the sunshine to rise up and wrap us both in its arms. night is what brings the weeds. the gardener: Me, is asleep.
its not trust issues, its not jealousy, its fear brought on by a strategy im cursed enough to notice.
ignorance is not bliss, bliss is the lack of ignorance, knowing is the only thing that lets you smile in the end. knowing is the closest to bliss anyone can come.
"i can take anything but a lie" (-money pit? some movie like that...)
but oh so true. the most difficult part of being on fire is lovong the prescense of someone else. loving every second with them knowing that youre enduring so much in your own mind just to make sure theyre alright and not worried. im already Thatched and burning...all i ask is that the whole town be brought to me, so i could isolate the firestorm until it dies out and trickles away with the water you so lovingly will always supply me with. and i thankyou for that. for always giving me water and keeping me alive. i owe everything to you, the only true firefighter between us both.
i never doubted my garden. never questioned its beauty, scent, or delicateness of its petals. i only fear the weeds. and the inability to pull the fire alarm. let me warn the village. but no, no, no...those whome try to choke out the water will surely hear...oh my, my, my....what difficulty...
please....just pull the alarm....im Thatched and burning....bring the water....bring the shovel....we need to gather the town together....if we stand arm in arm and hand in hand, we can turn our fire from my chest to the ground....to rid ourselves of the questions im too afraid to ask...
i only beg....
please.....
-The Thatched Gardener
the one i didnt plan for.
this is the hurricane The Weatherman: Me, didnt plan for. this is the one i left the sandbags in the barn with the mice...but now the winds are high and the rain makes it too loud for her to hear me...all im trying to do is scream out: ITS BURNING!!! FIRE!! FIRE!!!
the weeds are out tonight my friend. theyve found my garden. fucking bastards found my precious garden i kept so far away and hidden. now the weeds are inside. in between the petals. sucking the water. right through the stem. but the worst part is...if i try to warn my garden, the weeds twist further..."weeds"...or is it just "words" mispelled...?
im shaking as i type this. no elegance. no peace. this only happens at night. only when im alone do i start to wonder if the whole world is in good company.
with every newspaper read to me, i feel my flesh melt from my body...just from hearing the headlines. if only i could stop the shaking;thinking.
is it true? am i right? is this justified???
yes goddamn it he said yes. him who spends his life telling me how mine can be worth living, he who i run to, once a week. "triangulation" "affirmation" these are the tools at work. this is what im running from. "and with good reason" ill fight and fight and fight until were free. free together. clip the fucking weeds and burn their branches...
but, alas, i cannot handle fire...for i am Thatched. Thatched and burning....
theres no right way to handle a lose-lose situation like this. all i can do is beg. get down on my cursed knees and beg with the same shaking fingers and reddening eyes i have now.
no im alright. im going to get through this, because if i fear i ask for lines and walls, my trust will be brought into question by him.
ANY FERTILIZER I SPRAY WILL BE TWISTED AND CHOKED OUT BY WEEDS
affirmation;acceptance;attention.
triangulation;third party;loaded gun.
whats a boy to do? kill???
its been night for so long. i just want the sunshine to rise up and wrap us both in its arms. night is what brings the weeds. the gardener: Me, is asleep.
its not trust issues, its not jealousy, its fear brought on by a strategy im cursed enough to notice.
ignorance is not bliss, bliss is the lack of ignorance, knowing is the only thing that lets you smile in the end. knowing is the closest to bliss anyone can come.
"i can take anything but a lie" (-money pit? some movie like that...)
but oh so true. the most difficult part of being on fire is lovong the prescense of someone else. loving every second with them knowing that youre enduring so much in your own mind just to make sure theyre alright and not worried. im already Thatched and burning...all i ask is that the whole town be brought to me, so i could isolate the firestorm until it dies out and trickles away with the water you so lovingly will always supply me with. and i thankyou for that. for always giving me water and keeping me alive. i owe everything to you, the only true firefighter between us both.
i never doubted my garden. never questioned its beauty, scent, or delicateness of its petals. i only fear the weeds. and the inability to pull the fire alarm. let me warn the village. but no, no, no...those whome try to choke out the water will surely hear...oh my, my, my....what difficulty...
please....just pull the alarm....im Thatched and burning....bring the water....bring the shovel....we need to gather the town together....if we stand arm in arm and hand in hand, we can turn our fire from my chest to the ground....to rid ourselves of the questions im too afraid to ask...
i only beg....
please.....
-The Thatched Gardener