Out With the Old!P.S. Check out my AMAZING MS Paint artwork!
Storybook EyesOpposing views the villain whose maniacal laugh heard miles away is a testament to our narrow-minded agonyStorybook Eyes
the villain he is devious wants to destroy for the sake of destruction wants to hunt us for the sake of murder
the villain wants us maimed there is no reason to the madness of the villain, whose eyes shine blood red his teeth are fangs his spine rigid
the villain who would stop at nothing his hatred abundant heart of two-dimensional fury origin so hidden in
The Dystopian PresentThe Dystopian Present by MT McLaughlinThe Dystopian Present
Fondling nervously the dollar bill in his pocket, Thomas Gordon considered for a moment the texture of this vile slip of paper. Dry and lifeless, the surface was rough to the fingers. Colorless and unimaginative, this needless burden depicted the faces of sour old men. Mighty and destructive, it had a grip of iron upon society.
Thomas removed the dollar from his pocket, slipping it into the large, colorful soda machine before him. A series of noises originated from the bowels of the machine, producing merely a plastic bottle
Desperation of MiraclesDesperation of Miracles by M.T. McLaughlinDesperation of Miracles
“If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up.” I smiled at him. His darkness was haunting as he had spun the web of his life before my eyes, coming to grips with the devastating details. I wanted to comfort him in what seemed like his time of need. I wanted to put my arms around him and cherish the moment, but something had separated us. “It's no dream,” he so sweetly assured me, “this is reality.” His eyes looked out over the balcony, to the colorful world below, its tempting majesty so painfully unattainable.
Eight GallonsEight GallonsEight Gallons
by M.T. McLaughlin, bizzo!
It was my third year at Princeton University. Todd was an excruciatingly irritating roommate at times, but I had come to tolerate him over the time provided. When I just happened upon the chem lab the other night, I found Professor Jennings dead. I didn't do anything, but I found him dead. Yes, the very same Professor Jennings that teaches Advanced Calcified Calculitus, dead in the chem lab. I didn't do anything, but I found Professor Jennings dead in the chem lab at Princeton University nowhere near the ocean. It was the driest land I'd ever seen. I was thir
Are good.
So good.
Like chicken.
Tasty.
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I believe the proper metaphor here involves a river of excrement and a Native American watercraft with no means of propulsion...
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LIT NEEDS SOUND
Make A Noise About It Here
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