sick kingdom
I built a fortress entirely from tomatoes last weekend to keep you away from me. I called it my sick kingdom, cause I'm actually allergic to tomatoes and this is all some sort of demented self-harm mechanism.
My arms became numb. I felt what might be likened to an oil slicked albatross. How I longed to be free from the debilitating love slick.
The memory of your moustache caused me to levitate for three hours last night. Tomato brick number nine hundred and eighty-five frowned at me from above the fireplace as I hovered with sadness. I opened a window and airswam out of my tomato prison prism for a spell.
Outside I found you had smeared a giant portrait of my face in mustard. The mustard molecules had begun corroding and eroding the walls of my tomato fortress flesh. A hole appeared between my mustard nose and mustard freckle to the left of my mustard nose.
My fortress was falling down. Hours of silent construction would soon slop down into a ruined relish.